Chasing the Sun
by Niknakz93
Summary: AU/AH: After a brutal tour in Afghanistan turns his life upside down, Jace is forced to battle a new war. This time, one of his own. Fortunately, he's not alone. Can new next-door neighbor Clary help heal a wounded soldier's heart? Vulgar language and lots of lemonade.
1. Prologue

**Chasing the Sun.**

**Summary- **_AU/AH: After a brutal tour in Afghanistan turns his life upside down, Jace is forced to battle a new war. This time, one of his own. Fortunately, he's not alone. Can new next-door neighbor Clary help heal a wounded soldier's heart? Vulgar language and lots of lemonade. _

**A/N at bottom.**

* * *

><p>The explosions ripped Jace from his sleep. He sat up with a startled cry, white shirt clinging to his back with sweat while a tremor wracked his body. With a groan he raised his hands to cover his ears as the whistling filled them, the screams and gunfire. It never ended and he doubt it ever would.<p>

"Every fucking morning" he swore bitterly to himself, collapsing back down onto the bed with a heavy sigh. His body still shook slightly and he felt sick with the pain sitting up had caused to his hip. Jace lowered his hands and let them rest atop the duck-feather pillow, eyes clenching shut. Would the sights, sounds and smells of war ever vanish? He didn't think so.

The bedroom door clattered open and Jace's instincts kicked in instantly as his hand snapped to his hip for a gun, but of course, there was nothing there.

"Jace?" his mother asked, worry in her eyes as she stood in the doorway with her face as pale as a sheet at the sight of her son frozen at the sight of her. Her hands hadn't stopped shaking for days now. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't think..." Jace felt guilty when tears filled those beautiful eyes of hers and he relaxed, shaking his head, making sure to avoid looking directly at her.

"It's okay" he told her gruffly, yanking the covers up over himself, shame trickling through his veins like sand in an hourglass; if he'd had a gun, he would have shot his own mother without a pause for thought. It horrified him. War changed a man, and not for the best.

Celine Herondale shifted slightly as if to step closer, but didn't – he'd been yelling for her to go away since he'd come home four days ago. They had been the most awkward four days of Jace's life. He'd rather be back out in the field with a gun in his hand and an enemy dead before him than faced with his sobbing mother who had been quite inconsolable at first. "Do you... want something to eat? I was going to make some pasta" she asked hesitantly, hoping he'd start to eat something at long last.

"No" Jace told her, voice softer than before. His heart pounded in his chest, the shells still whistling loudly inside his ears even now. "I just want... to be alone." He turned his head away and sighed, tugging the covers even higher over himself with his back facing her. When Jace heard the door shut, he rolled onto his back and lay there staring up at the ceiling for so long he lost track of time while his body throbbed painfully.

When the sun started to peek from behind the cottony clouds, a flash of gold caught Jace's eye. He turned his gaze reluctantly on the trophies and medals for his achievements in football in High School on the top shelf of his bookcase, acid bubbling up inside his throat, making him feel even more nauseous.

_I'll never play football again _Jace thought numbly, suddenly wishing he had a baseball bat so he could take it to the shiny trophies that meant nothing to him now. They were hunks of useless metal. All they reminded him of was the past, when he could...

Jace grabbed the empty glass from his bedside table and threw it as hard as he could at the shelf of trophies, a cry of frustration and grief tearing itself from his throat; the glass shattered as it made contact with the largest trophy, but it didn't knock it off.

_Fuck the world. Fuck everything._

He didn't know how the hell he was going to cope. How could he? The life he knew before, the life he loved and was comfortable with had been shattered beyond repair.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: _**_This idea has been simmering away for while in my head, really. I wanted to write a gritty story with real situations and issues as well as an unlikely romance. If you like your men in uniform, your story angsty and hot, you have come to the right place. This will be very different from what I've written before, but no less hot and spicy. It's AU and AH with some OOC in the characters at times. This is the prologue to see if people are interested in reading more. If so, drop a review. I'll post the first chapter when I deem enough people want more. Thank you. _

_In other news, can I have some recommendations for The Mortal Instruments fics? Preferably ones that are AU/AH and are relatively unknown in the FF community. Both finished and ongoing. No super popular ones though, because I'm pretty sure I've read all of those ones by now. It can be your own or someone else's, I really don't mind. I'm open to new ideas! Every time I update I will add some fic recommendations of my favourite's on the end for you all to enjoy._

_-Nicola_

_p.s, a big thank you to Isla and Katie. The pair of cheerleaders I want to squish and hug._


	2. This is War

_A warning to the people,_

_The good and the evil,_

_This is war._

_30 Seconds to Mars – This is War_

_oOoOo_

Clary's new house was smaller than what she was used to, but the Brownstone had a certain charm to it. The windows needed replacing and a crack in the foundations looked ominous, but it wasn't too bad. At least her bedroom wasn't bright neon pink like Jonathan's. He had instantly claimed the biggest room after their father without taking even a glance at it in advance.

"This place is a dump" Jonathan grumbled over his breakfast a week after they moved into the Brownstone. "Clary, paint my room."

"I don't know," Clary teased, sliding into her seat opposite her brother. The head of the table where their father usually sat was empty as he went over his briefcase again and again upstairs, making sure everything was in order for his first day of work. "Pink suits you Jon."

"There are _hearts _scrawled on the wall" Jonathan scowled, dropping his spoon into his empty bowl a little too hard, causing the China to clink loudly. "It's vile. Like your outfit today."

Clary's eyes narrowed and surveyed her brother's own clothes for their first day at school. "You look like Dobby the house elf" she told him matter-of-factly.

Jonathan picked up his spoon and proceeded to admire himself in the back of it, flashing his reflection a wink. Clary rolled her eyes and dropped them down to her breakfast.

Footsteps on the stairs alerted the pair to their father's arrival. While Jonathan didn't look up from his dregs of milk, Clary's gaze immediately found her father, face turning into a wide smile. "Good morning Father."

Valentine Morgenstern looked tired with dark shadows smudged beneath his eyes, and Clary knew from waking up numerous times in the night, her body refusing its new surroundings that he'd barely slept a wink. His bedroom light hadn't gone off the entire night. He sighed and took his seat at the table, suit so very out of place in the room that was still littered with unopened boxes.

"Wait a moment" Clary sighed sympathetically as he raised a hand to his neck where poked and prodded at his badly done tie. He rolled his eyes good-naturedly as his daughter climbed to her feet and adjusted it for him.

"Really rather glad my shoes are not lace-up ones this morning" he chuckled as she sat back down. "Took me a little while to realize why they felt so uncomfortable."

"On the wrong foot?" Clary guessed lightly and he gave her a small shrug that meant 'unfortunately' in Valentine Morgenstern speak.

"Now" he said, voice strong and ringing with authority in the way teachers voices did. "Are you both ready?"

Jonathan slumped back in his chair and folded his arms tight against his chest, dark eyes blazing in defiance. "This is ridiculous" he growled, glaring at his father. "I'm not going. I'm going to be nineteen next month, and you can't stop me from leaving."

Both Valentine and Clary ignored his words, Clary's heart missing a beat slightly at the thought of Jonathan leaving to join their mother in Iraq. He wasn't soldier material, too impulsive and headstrong. He would never come back from war if he left them. _But then... he would, _Clary thought grimly. _He'd return nailed inside a box with a flag draping it. And that's if they can find all his body parts and... _It was imaginable.

"Fine" Jonathan snapped, pushing himself roughly from the table. "Ignore me. Fuck you both."

Clary flinched as her father slammed his clenched fist down onto the table with a thump and rattle of cutlery, closing her eyes and sighing lightly while barely resisting the urge to shake her head; Jonathan was treading on eggshells made of thin ice.

Jonathan left the room, slamming the kitchen door for effect.

"He's not going, right?" Clary immediately asked her father. Valentine's broad shoulders sagged in defeat. "Jonathan is right; he'll be nineteen soon. When that happens, I will be powerless to stop him. It was hard enough stopping him when he turned eighteen..."

Clary scowled. "You have to do _something. _He won't last five minutes. Jonathan isn't a soldier. He's just a boy."

"Don't you think I know that, Clarissa?" Valentine told her quietly, eyes flickering to the wall where a framed photo of his wife hung in her army uniform, her hair burning like embers even in the low light steeping through the blinds. He missed her. She was the reason why Jonathan wanted to leave, he was sure.

"Ready for school?" Valentine asked now, his appetite vanishing. Clary grimaced. "Are you, Principle Morgenstern?"

He still couldn't get used to that name. "Yes" he told her, rising to his feet with a slight groan. Clary couldn't help but notice the new lines etched into his face that had never been there when his wife, her mother had been here. It was like he was withering away from the inside out, making him look so much older than he actually was.

"Principle Herondale has invited us over for lunch tonight" he now remembered, causing Clary to frown. "We're not taking Jonathan are we?"

"Unfortunately, he is a requirement. Tell him when you see him at school that he is to be ready for seven o'clock to meet the Herondale's."

Clary nodded, groaning internally – a polite dinner gathering with Jonathan in tow? Chaos. At least the Herondale's –the ones to get them such a beautiful house so near the school – lived opposite. There would be no need to rush around, get into a car and try to navigate their way out of Brooklyn.

That was, of course, if all three of them survived school.

**oOoOo**

Clary felt like an utter freak by the time lunch arrived. Students, having made the connection between her last name and their new principle's, avoided her like the plague. Both her and Jonathan.

"Whatever" Jonathan told his sister when she filled him in of the evening plans, his eyes never leaving his book the entire time. "Now go away and- hey!"

Clary had yanked the book from his hands, slamming it down onto the table. "Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern" she growled, pointing the book at his face like some weapon. "Stop being such a brat. Act your age."

"Then act yours" Jonathan snapped, rising to his feet and snatching his book back. "You're not our mother. You can't take care of this family yourself, so stop trying. You will never be anything like our mother, the-" he stopped dead as Clary slapped him straight across the face, tears of anger and grief burning in her eyes. "Fuck you" she whispered before turning tail and leaving the library, ignoring the stares of other students as they watched her go.

**oOoOo**

Jace was in a very bad mood.

"I don't _want_ to meet these people. They can burn in hell."

"Jace!" his father scolded. "This family-"

Jace rolled his eyes and turned away from his father's disapproving eyes until only his back was facing him. It hurt but he didn't care. "I really couldn't give a shit. If I'm down there, you _know _what the conversation will be about."

"Jace-"

"'Oh, Mr. Herondale you poor soul!' 'Oh, I'm so very sorry for you.' 'You brave, brave soldier.' I don't want their fucking pity."

"JACE!" Stephen yelled, not caring what the neighbours thought of him. It shut him up, but didn't make him turn back around to face him. "They wouldn't even see with you sat at the table. Look – you've been up here for almost a _month _now. You need _interaction._"

"I'm afraid I have to decline. And I have interaction, thanks."

Stephen's eyes narrowed and he took a hold of his son's shoulder and turned him onto his back. "Your mother may be treating you like glass, but I know you, son; I'm not going to let you rot up here forever like her. And Facebook and email is _not _physical interaction. Hasn't that girlfriend of yours wanted to see you? Or have you been lying to her as to your whereabouts?"

Jace's expression hardened and he jerked his shoulder away, turning back onto his side instantly without another word.

"You're leaving this room tonight" Stephen warned him, strolling over to the door. "There is no way you can refuse. I will drag you from this room if I have to."

"Yeah, and injure me further." As if he could be injured further than he already had been.

"I know you Jace" Stephen said, tone softer than before. "You hate this solitary confinement. You hate not talking to people other than me and your mother. Tiny steps, son. These are good people coming tonight." He left without waiting for his son's reply, which was a good job, for he said nothing in return.

**oOoOo**

Clary spent the last class of the day sat in the toilets with her feet up on the closed lid, nothing but misery coursing through her.

All she wanted was her mother back from war.

It had been three years since Jocelyn Morgenstern left to join the armed forces. Not as a nurse, but as a fully fledged soldier. Clary had just turned fifteen. Apart from the emails she occasionally sent, Clary received no other contact from her mother. When she raised the subject in the house, her father would clam up and say nothing while Jonathan ranted and raved that he should be allowed to go out there and join in the fighting.

Her phone buzzed.

_How is first day? -Simon_

Clary was too miserable to even reply. She missed her best friend, her old school on the other side of Brooklyn. Why couldn't she have stayed there instead of moving to this... hellhole? The war wouldn't go on forever, would it?

When the final bell rang, Clary walked home instead of waiting for her father to finish and give her a lift. What was the point, really, when you lived only a block or two away?

Jonathan was already home when Clary returned. The rock music blaring from his bedroom could be heard as soon as she opened the front door. When she slammed it closed, hoping he'd notice she was back and turn it down, he turned it up instead.

Only when she had collapsed onto her bed did she message Simon back.

_It was awful –Clary _

Only when their father returned did Jonathan turn the music down, knowing very well what his father would do to his speakers – put his foot through them. It had happened before.

"How was your first day?" Valentine asked his daughter the moment she walked into the kitchen. Putting on her very best fake smile, she told him "it was fantastic." When he smiled in relief, Clary felt the guilt threaten to envelope her but quickly quashed it; he had done this for his family, nothing more, nothing less. Clary had long since realized that her father had no idea how to bring both her and Jonathan up on his own, much less how to deal with a rebellious son that wanted to run headlong into war and most likely get himself blown up on the first day in the field.

Clary noticed her father looked nervous; his face was as pale as his hair. He also kept fidgeting with his tie. She frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Mrs. Celine Herondale came to see me at the end of the day" he told her, fingers still picking at his tie. "She told me some, ah, disturbing facts as to why she gave up her post. What she told me I cannot repeat to you, but it certainly makes tonight more... intimidating. You are in no way to be rude to the Herondale's tonight, Clarissa. You or Jonathan. Especially not to their son."

Clary just stared, utterly and completely confused. "Why would I be rude?"

"They have had a very trying last few months."

She still had no idea what the hell he was talking about, but from the way he seemed unnerved, Clary knew he wasn't joking around. Valentine's eyes glanced upwards to the ceiling. "I think it best if Jonathan does not come tonight" he said quietly, at last leaving his tie alone.

"Why not?"

Valentine paused for a moment, visibly torn between explaining everything to his daughter and saying nothing at all. Eventually he groaned softly in defeat. "The Herondale's son has recently returned from war. Mrs. Herondale quit her post to care for him."

A shiver crept up Clary's spine. "Care for him?" she echoed. "What's wrong with him?"

He refused to tell her any more on the subject but to tell her to go upstairs and get ready.

**oOoOo**

Jace had seen his new neighbours numerous times already from his bedroom window. There were three of them; two had white-blond hair, a father and son. The other was a young woman with hair the colour of fire. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off her as she'd helped carry furniture and boxes into the house on moving-in day; it shined and burned too bright to be ignored. It reminded him of the fires of war, the explosions and the screams. Then again, everything reminded Jace of that these days; when he was bought dinner all he could think about was the crap food he'd eaten for all those years; when he put on a fresh t-shirt or shirt, he would feel slight surprise that it wasn't his usual uniform. Before he had gone to war, he had been the most untidy person on the planet. Now? He constantly called for his mother to rearrange something if he felt it too messy.

It was strange being home. He couldn't get over it.

Many times had his friends tried to ring him, but he'd ignored every single call. Jace only talked to his girlfriend, and that was because of how their relationship had built up – through letters and care packages. They'd been together two years, yet he'd never kissed her because of the distance.

There was a new message.

_Hey baby. How r u? –A_

Jace stared at it for a long time, the sun setting over New York with the orange light reflecting off the glass. How was he supposed to respond to that?

_I'm good. U? – J_

_I can't wait after all this time –A_

_Soon –J_

He wasn't sure how soon. For one thing, he refused to leave the house. Point-blank refused. But... she loved him. Right? She wouldn't care what had happened to him.

A new flash of orange caught Jace's eye now. With a slight groan he leaned over to the curtains and pulled them aside; the fire-haired girl from over the road was taking out the trash. Jace sighed and let the curtains flutter back shut, closing his eyes gently as he cursed himself – his old self would kick him in the nuts. Kick them so hard he'd cry. And why? Because he was afraid. Because he hadn't left the house in well over a goddamn month. He couldn't hide forever.

"Mom!" Jace yelled in defeat. "What time is this stupid dinner?"

**oOoOo**

Jonathan didn't argue about being excluded from the dinner. He lay on his bed with his headphones on, raising his middle finger when Clary went in to tell him.

Maybe one day he'd grow up, she figured.

Clary couldn't remember the last time she'd seen her father out of a suit. Even tonight he was wearing one, albeit his black dinner jacket slung over his arm. It saddened her, for before her mother went to war, he never wore them. Back in those days, his hair had been wild and his face much less lined. She could even remember him wearing band t-shirts like Metallica and Led Zeppelin; he and her mother had frequently dropped her and Jonathan off at their grandmothers and gone to concerts.

Things had been so much easier back then. Now? It was like he'd aged twenty years in just three.

"Hopefully this doesn't run past ten" Valentine told her as he slammed the door shut behind them. "I'm exhausted. I need to sleep after the catastrophe of last night."

Clary's ankle length bright red dress made her feel over-the-top, but her father had assured her she looked perfect. But still she worried.

Her first impression of the Herondale household was that it looked exactly like their own from the outside, except for the fact they had numerous plants littering the front steps in various stages of growth. The bluebells were beautiful and Clary made a mental note to paint them in daylight that week before they withered away.

"Back straight" Valentine muttered to her as he rang the bell. Clary had barely enough time to straighten up before the door was opened and she was faced with the smile of a woman with long blonde hair that swept past her shoulders. "Mr. Morgenstern" she beamed when she saw him, her gaze flickering to the young woman next to him. "And you must be Clarissa. Your father has told me so much about you. But where is your son?" she frowned, peering over Clary's shoulder.

Valentine chuckled lightly. "Dear Celine, do call me Valentine. And Jonathan... I won't beat about the bush, he has been somewhat problematic. Meeting your son would... unbalance him."

"Ah" Celine sighed sadly, stepping aside. "I understand. Now, enough chitchat, do come in. I've just put dinner on, so if you go straight through to the dining room you'll find my husband, Stephen, and my son Jace. Do help yourself to drinks, they're on the table."

Clary couldn't believe this woman had been a principle of a High School. She was much too pretty and bubbly for that, right? Her dress was patterned with daisies and her heels high and black. When she bounced away, her father glanced down to her and raised a pale eyebrow. "Quite a character, isn't she?"

The inside of the house was a soft cream with a golden carpet. Clary wanted to take her shoes off and bury her toes into the soft fabric. Maybe when she was at the table, she would. Everything was neat, tidy and in her opinion, beautiful.

When they reached the dining room, it was the same again but with a long black table and matching chairs that screamed class. Stephen Herondale rose from his chair next to his son and smiled at the pair. "Welcome. It's nice to finally meet you."

A soft scoff behind the man drew Clary's attention. He looked older than her, Clary noticed straight away. Maybe in his early twenties. The young man resembled his father greatly with short wild honey-blond hair and build to his shoulders. Something in his face reminded Clary of Celine though, especially around the eyes. But where hers had been soft, these were hard and angry.

"Jace, yes?" Clary asked, reaching out a hand for him to take. Jace took one look at it and cocked a brow. "I'm not kissing it if that's what you're expecting, Princess."

Clary flushed. "Are you going to shake it or not?"

"No."

Behind her, she heard Stephen Herondale groan very quietly. _Maybe Jonathan should have come, _Clary thought bitterly as she retracted her hand and took the seat furthest away from the boy after greeting his father.

Jace didn't say anything else for a long time, choosing to eat his starter in silence, tugging the sleeve of his long-sleeved jumper down as often as possible. Clary swore she'd seen tattoos though. Why would he want to hide them? Maybe they were rude ones that he'd gotten while drunk.

Celine Herondale was a fantastic cook, Clary had to admit. Everything she made was wonderfully tasty.

It was only when the pudding of strawberry cheesecake was being assembled that Valentine tried once more to talk to Jace – his earlier attempts had been pointedly ignored, yet Clary noted that he hadn't seemed surprised. What did he know that she didn't?

"Where were you stationed?"

"Afghanistan, sir" Jace shrugged. "On the border between Nangahar and Kunar."

Clary didn't know what these names meant, but from the way her father groaned gently, it was obviously a bad place to be.

"I heard about your actions" he told the young man quietly. "Forgive me... I know this is a sensitive topic, but you're very brave. You should be very proud of yourself for what you did."

She saw Jace visibly stiffen, saw the way his scarred hands clenched into fists upon the table. "I'm not a hero" he snapped, turning his head away. "Shut your fucking mouth. You have no idea what you're talking about. My mother is a stupid bitch for quitting her job because of me."

"Jace!" his father scolded him. Clary's emerald eyes narrowed in disgust. "Wow. Your mother quit her job for you. To care for you and your gigantic attitude. I don't know what's supposed to be wrong with you, but if you talk to my father like that again, you can add broken nose to your list."

"Clarissa-!" her father yelled, horrified. "Apologize!"

"Fine. I'm sorry... I should have said 'smashed plate over your head' instead. Much more dramatic."

Jace smirked, ignoring their parent's words. "Unlike you, I have an excuse to be an asshole."

"Nothing is an excuse to be an ass" Clary told him matter-of-factly, rising to her feet before her father could yell for her to go home again. "And you, Jace Herondale, are an ass."

"Ah," Jace sighed gently, the smirk appearing once more. "You have such a fiery mouth. Do you kiss your mother and suck cocks with that?"

Clary's expression hardened. "I don't care if you saved puppies from a burning building; fuck you." She turned tail and stalked from the house, pausing just long enough to thank Celine for the dinner.

**oOoOo**

Jonathan was beside himself when Clary told him why she was home so early.

"So," he snorted from his perch on the kitchen table, "you called a war hero an asshole?"

"HA!" Clary exploded, pummelling her fist into the opposite palm. "Hero? My ass he is! He's a rude, perverted piece of shit."

Jonathan tittered, sliding down from his seat. "Damn. I should have come now. I've never seen you pissed at someone other than me." He winced slightly as the front door was slammed, letting out a low whistle. "Dad's back. Good luck little sis." He was gone from the room before Clary could even open her mouth to swear at him.

"What were you _thinking?!_" Valentine raged as he tossed the keys down where they slid into the washing up bowl with a splash. "Of _all things, Clarissa! Why did you embarrass me like that?!_"

Clary swelled up like a balloon. "He was rude to you, he was rude to me. He had it coming."

Valentine dragged a hand through his hair with a loud, exaggerated groan. "Clarissa," he told her in a measured tone. "That boy is a hero. He saved lives. He lost his leg while doing it as well. _That _is the reason he's not... cooperative right now. His mother warned me."

All she could do was stare in disbelief. "Jace Herondale lost-?"

"_Yes_" her father growled, fishing the keys from the washing-up bowl. "Constantly being in pain _will_ make you an asshole at times. Tomorrow you're going to go over and... and apologize. God, I'm so embarrassed with you, Clarissa."

Clary still didn't see how losing a leg automatically gave him an excuse to be so foul and vulgar. "So is it all his leg that's..." she couldn't make herself say amputated. It sounded so strange. He'd looked so... normal.

"Just below the knee" he told her, sinking down into a chair next to the table. "This is partly my own fault – I should have warned you about Jace Herondale beforehand. His mother informed me he wasn't... adjusting well to life without his leg. Prone to outbursts of anger that he cannot control yet."

Clary felt a trickle of pity enter her train of thought; she couldn't imagine ever losing her leg. How _could _you adjust to that kind of life? Great. Now she felt regret.

"Fine" she told her father. "I'll go over and apologize tomorrow."

Valentine nodded. "Good. And for god's sake, be _nice. _The family have gone through hell. And show some pity for Jace."

Clary still couldn't see herself being civilized with Jace Herondale unless he was to her first.

**oOoOo**

_A/N: Thank you so much for the support and interest. You guys blew me away. So... Yep, this is totally unlike anything I've ever wrote before as you can see. And you guys are going to love this, believe me. Next chapter will be up soon if people still want me to write more. Thank you! _


	3. Welcome to the Jungle

_No warning sign, no alibi_

_We faded faster than the speed of light_

-30 Seconds to Mars – Alibi

**oOoOo**

School the next day was something of a horrible, fucked up nightmare for Clary. Once more, no one talked to her. By the time break arrived, the indignation had turned into anger. She wanted to hit something... or someone.

And she did hit someone. By accident. Right in the face. With a dodge ball.

"Oh my God" she spluttered as the tall girl with flowing black hair toppled backwards and onto the floor, guilt enveloping her like wildfire, "I am so sorry. Oh god..." Clary felt even worse when she saw that the girl's nose was bleeding freely all down the front of her bright blue cheerleaders outfit. With a whimper the girl slapped a hand over her nose. "Owww-"

"Bitch did it on purpose!" a girl in matching uniform screamed at Clary, pointing at her accusingly.

"Did not!" Clary growled, glaring at the other girl – prissy little cheerleader bitches. She'd always hated them.

Coach Evans groaned in exasperation and shook his head. "Aline, it was an accident."

"Bullshit" the girl called Aline spat, twirling a lock of her dark hair around a finger as she looked at the man. "She's jealous of us; she's new, everyone hates her already and we're popular."

He blew his whistle, causing the class to cringe. "Out-!" he called at Aline. "Or would you like to trot along to meet our new principle and explain to him just why you are making false accusations against his daughter?"

Just when Clary thought she couldn't feel more like a freak, it happened. The girl called Aline sniggered and stared right at her. "She'll be running to _daddy _by the end of the week."

More for her own benefit, the coach sent Clary to the changing rooms to finish up early. She was grateful; Aline and a bright red dodge ball didn't look like a friendly combination.

**oOoOo**

It wasn't _fair. _Clary shoved her sneakers into her bag and yanked it closed. No one was treating Jonathan like he was from Mars. If anything, he was amassing a fan-club already with how many girls were paying attention to him. When she walked into the cafeteria and spied him at a table, it was with a group of girls who were chatting animatedly to him, each one of them more than simply 'pretty'.

"I heard you broke the head cheerleader's nose" Jonathan snickered as she sat down opposite him, a grumpy expression etched seemingly permanent on her face at lunch. "That's not nice now."

"It was an accident" Clary hissed, ignoring the pair of girls either side of Jonathan and ripping open her sandwich with one violent movement. "We were playing dodge ball and I slipped. Plus this bitch threatened to basically knock me out because of it."

The girl next to Jonathan giggled childishly. "That would be Aline. She's such a wannabe Izzy."

"Izzy?"

"Head cheerleader" Jonathan yawned, picking up his cup of coffee and bringing it to his lips. "The one you face-smushed..." his eyes flickered to someone over her shoulder and a pale eyebrow rose. "Her coming over right now."

Clary wanted to sink down into her chair and vanish beneath the table as she glanced over her shoulder and indeed saw the girl from earlier walking towards their table.

"I'm so sorry" Clary blurted out before the girl could say a word. "Really, it was an accident."

Izzy was extremely pretty, Clary supposed. Tall, willowy with her long black hair shining like a raven's wing beneath the lights. Now she was out of her cheerleaders outfit, she was wearing a short black dress with a few red stripes down the bodice. Her nose was bright red, but obviously not broken.

"It's fine" she smiled at Clary, wincing slightly as it twinged her nose. "I just wanted to apologize for Aline. She can be such a bitch, I know. But don't worry about her threats – they're totally empty."

Jonathan snorted around his cup of coffee, gazing at his little sister. "Day two and you already have death threats? Seriously?"

Izzy frowned, taking the seat –to Clary's horror – next to her. "You look awfully like... oh" she realized, dark eyes widening. "You're Jonathan Morgenstern."

All Clary could do was roll her eyes in embarrassment as Jonathan flashed her a wink. "We're famous already, little sister. We're attracting all the sexy girls."

She wanted to melt into the floor from horror; why must he be so _embarrassing_? The girls all around the table except Izzy giggled. Izzy herself raised an eyebrow and snorted lightly. "You think I'm sexy?"

"I'd do a lot of things to you" Jonathan smiled angelically. "But I won't go into detail and scar Clary for life. I'm a good brother." The girl on Jonathan's right slapped his arm lightly. "Gross!"

Clary rose to her feet, cheeks burning red. "I'm going" she groaned in disgust. "Before this turns into an orgy."

It was only when she tossed the rest of her sandwich into the bin did she realize that Izzy had followed her.

"Are you Jace's new neighbour?" she asked with a slight frown, clasping her hands in front of her awkwardly. "I heard that you... were-?"

Clary nodded slowly, tossing the sandwich's wrapper away too. "Uh-huh. We were over there last night. I'm seeing him later for... my father" she hurriedly added.

The girl paled. "How is he?" she asked in a hushed voice, obviously nervous. Clary paused, then-"completely foul."

Izzy beamed. "He hasn't changed much then. Forgive me... we were – are friends. I know he's injured somehow and home, but... I was worried. He won't let me come over. And he won't text me back. We're all completely in the dark."

Clary felt a surge of pity for her – she had no idea what was wrong with Jace? What a horrible surprise she was going to get when she finally saw him.

"Please" she next to begged now, face pale and afraid. "Tell him to message me – Isabelle Lightwood. Or my brother Alec. Or Aline... she's his girlfriend."

That made sense to Clary. She was horrible. He was horrible. A match made in the fiery pits of hell.

"I'll tell him" Clary told Isabelle, but added wearily "if I don't slap him first. We don't get along."

Isabelle smiled and nodded. "Believe me; I've done that too many times to count."

Clary liked this girl already. For a head cheerleader, she was... nice? It was odd. Utterly strange. Had she made a friend from hitting her in the face with a ball? It was laughable.

**oOoOo**

Jace groaned as his phone chimed yet again. Aline.

_Jace, I want to see you._

Well he didn't want to see her. Once more he ignored her message. He didn't know why he was, really; this was the girl that had sent such sweet letters to keep his morale up during the brutal tour. If anything, he should _want _to see her.

Jace plucked his phone from the table and pressed Reply, fingers poised above the keyboard.

But what could he say? _Hey Aline, yeah let's meet up. I have a surprise for you. _

If only he had been able to keep his severed leg. That would have been the definition of 'one hell of a surprise present.' Jace refused to admit it, but he was frightened of the people he knew before he'd headed out to battle. Not all of them would accept the new Jace, he knew that. He wasn't an idiot.

_Christ I miss sex _was a frequent thought in Jace's mind. Fisting a hand around his cock for the last two years had only made the yearning worsen. What he really wanted –needed – was a woman to bury himself in.

_It could have been worse,_ he constantly reminded himself as his length twitched to life at the mere thought of sex._ You could have lost your cock instead. Or the shell could have left you unable to get it up. Imagine that, huh Jace? Never having sex again._

That was a fucking terrifying possibility.

He rolled his eyes and punched out a reply.

_Come over tomorrow evening. Tell my mother I let you -J_

At least Aline loved him, he argued, relief flooding through him. She'd accept his... disfigurement as he was calling it. At least, he hoped so. In her letters she'd sworn to always love him no matter what happened.

He was really, truly going to regret this.

**oOoOo**

She was really, truly going to regret this.

As soon as school had finished, Valentine had hunted down his daughter and reminded her that she still had to visit Jace and apologize. She really didn't see why she needed to; she hadn't been the one to turn him into a grade-A asshole. Or blow off his leg.

"Just go in, apologize and get out" Clary told herself as she made her way over to the Herondale's house after changing out of her school clothes. "And ignore him."

Celine Herondale was a bundle of sunlight as per usual the moment she opened the door. Clary thought she saw the woman's expression falter slightly for a moment, but then it was gone.

"Yes, dear?"

Here went nothing. "I'm here to talk to Jace" Clary told her, feeling practically miniscule stood before her. Now the woman's expression really did falter. "Oh. I don't know... last night-"

"I'm here to apologize" Clary interrupted. She wouldn't mean the apologies, but if it meant she'd never see that asshole of a soldier again, that would be fantastic news.

"Oh!" Clary felt insulted by how the woman sounded surprised. "Oh. In that case... do go right up. He's in bed right now."

Clary paused – the idea of finding a naked Jace in his bed sounded... both hot and gross. "I can come back later. Or tomorrow."

Celine Herondale's smile was sad. "You misunderstand me; Jace never leaves his bedroom. Not unless we make him. Last night was the first time since..." Clary suddenly worried if the woman was going to cry. "He- he just never leaves his room. Go in. It's the door at the end once you go up the stairs. Would you like a drink?"

Clary shook her head, taking a step inside while ignoring the awkwardness of the situation settle over her. "No thank you. I don't intend on staying long."

The elder woman nodded and closed the door after her, muttering "I'm really sorry about his attitude. He's not a bad boy. He just doesn't know what to do with himself right now. Give him a chance."

By the time Clary had reached the top of the stairs, she felt sad and miserable on Celine's behalf; it had hit her hard, that much was obvious. Jace's door was open slightly when she reached it. She rolled her eyes and sighed, knocking twice on the door. "Stop jacking off or whatever it is you do in here, I'm coming in."

Jace's room was very neat, that was Clary's first impression. Everything was organized, almost with military-precision. Maybe his time in the army had rubbed off on him. His books ranging from War and Peace to Harry Potter were stacked neatly at the foot of his bed, the corners pristine and not bashed in like Jonathan's... which he kept in a messy pile in his new wardrobe. Jonathan was an explosion of messiness where Jace was a clean freak.

"How did you know what I was doing (?)" Jace himself said grumpily from his position propped up on the bed, the TV playing away before him on the wall. Clary smiled sweetly and stood at the foot of the bed, effectively blocking his view of NCIS. "Well it's not like you're going to be fucking anyone anytime soon. Not on top anyway."

Jace glared, eyes narrowing. "Ouch. That stabbed me right in my nonexistent heart."

"And wounded your male ego?"

"That too" Jace snorted, turning the TV off with a click of the remote before tossing it down onto the white sheets. "What do you want Carrot? To ride me? Sorry, I'm not giving free rides today. Plus I'm a ride only for big girls and you don't qualify."

Clary arched a brow, arms folding over her chest. "You know... your leg isn't a golden ticket where you can insult anyone and everyone and they let it go instantly" she told him coolly.

"I think you tried to establish that last night," Jace snorted. "And failed. Seriously; I feel so sorry for the guys you suck off. They must get one nasty rash on their cocks from the diseased words you spout."

She was supposed to apologize to _this? _Not a chance in depths of hell. "You know, I came over to apologise. Not really apologise, of course, but a good convincing one." Clary rolled her eyes. "I should have bought my brother over. You'd like him. You're both assholes."

"Fuck your brother."

"I don't think Jonathan swings that way, but I'll ask on your behalf." Clary fluttered her lashes, amused at the glare the young man was sending at her, so intense she should have shied away from it. But she didn't. She wouldn't give him the pleasure. Jace raised a finger –only one – and Clary nodded, expression blank. "You don't deserve an apology, and you won't be getting one. Dick."

"Go away Carrot," Jace snapped, picking up the TV remote and clicking the screen back on. "I'd like to return to jacking off thanks."

Clary glowered. "I hope your cock gets amputated too." She left without another word.

**oOoOo**

"How was the boy when you went over?" Valentine asked his daughter over dinner. Jonathan was absent, shut up in his room with his food. Clary shrugged. "I hate him. I really do."

The man sighed, setting down his fork with a light clatter. "Clarissa... please tell me you apologized to him."

Clary's silence was answer enough. Valentine groaned, closing his eyes briefly. "Oh Clary."

"You wouldn't have said sorry either if you'd heard what he'd said" she told him quietly. "The moment I walked into the room-" she made explosion sounds, her hands miming one too. "Boom, basically. Send Jonathan over... they'll get on like a house on fire, believe me."

Valentine's dark eyes flickered up towards the ceiling. "I've been meaning to ask you... how is Jonathan settling in? At school?"

"Well, subscriptions to the Jonathan Morgenstern Fan Club are-"

"Clarissa."

A sigh. "He's doing fine. I haven't heard anything out of the ordinary. He's fitting in fine."_ Unlike me._

"And you?"

Clary couldn't help but stare at her father's worried face, his brows creased into a light frown. She forced a smile onto her face and nodded jerkily. "I'm good. I've made a friend." _I think. I kinda forgot to pass along her message to Jace, though._

It was worth it to lie just to see her father sag slightly in relief, expression brightening up considerably for the rest of dinner. She couldn't stop the guilt from bubbling up in the pit of her stomach though.

**oOoOo**

All through Art the next day, Aline Penhallow gushed about her 'super-hot hero soldier boyfriend,' showing his photo to anyone who would look. Isabelle Lightwood, Clary noticed, kept casting glares in Aline's direction as if she disapproved. Jace was her friend, after all. It made sense that it probably annoyed her.

"What about_ your _boyfriend, Clary?" Aline called when there was no one else to show her photo of Jace to. "What kind of soldier is _he? _Pussy Patrol?"

"The Slut Brigade." Clary couldn't help herself. Aline sniggered, stalking over to where Clary was sat finishing up a rough sketch of a stargazer lily. The girl perched herself on the edge of the table and Clary was sure she was wearing nothing beneath that miniscule denim skirt of hers. Gross. Urgh. Maybe this was what Jace saw in her; easy access.

"Don't you wish he was yours?" Aline smirked, thrusting her phone beneath Clary's nose. She raised an eyebrow at the photo on the screen; Jace was in standard mossy green military uniform, his leg still there. His golden hair had been recently shaven off from how short it was compared to now. There was a playful glint in his eye and a smile quirking his lip up at one side.

This boy was exactly that; a boy. Not hardened from war. Not injured... not dark and bitter. A twinge of sadness tugged at Clary's heart for him. If only he'd known what was coming.

"Very pretty" Clary told Aline, staring steadily at her. "Shame about his foul mouth, huh?"

Aline flicked her hair over onto her shoulder. "Fuck his mouth. He's a _soldier, _little girl. He's a hero and he's _mine. _I'm seeing him later on, you know?"

"I don't give a shit?"

A tut. "Jealousy, Morgenstern. The only dick you're going to get is your brothers. No... he doesn't look that foolish."

"I'd rather no dick at all than Jace Herondale's" Clary replied coldly. "You're a bitch, he's an asshole. I can see why you love him."

Aline burst out giggling, her eyes glinting maliciously. "Who said anything about _loving _him? Everyone knows soldiers are _in. _Baby, I cemented our 'relationship' over a two year period. You don't get this popular in High School without... a few tricks up your sleeve." She smiled sweetly, sliding off the table. "He's a soldier. A tool. There's a shit ton of them" Aline told her quietly, that coy smile still plastered all over her face.

Clary didn't like Jace, but she hated Aline. She groaned in disgust. "You're an animal, using someone like that just to become _popular_."

"Welcome to the jungle, little bitch" Aline simply retorted before flouncing off back to her group.

Clary snorted in laughter; surely Jace wasn't stupid enough to believe the bitch loved him, right?

**oOoOo**

_A/N: Hey guys! Next chapter. I hope you liked it? Aline... what a bitch. Sorry for the slow update. Currently I'm renovating my bedroom, which is leaving little time for fanfiction other than a few hundred words every day. But here we are, at the end of another update. Clace is coming. Slightly slowly, but it's coming._

_Also, I'm starting to write Harry Potter! If you like Draco/Hermione, do check out my brand new story __**Flares. **__Along with this story, it should be regularly updated when renovations are finished. It's sexy and dark, I assure you. Who doesn't love some Dramione? Or Draco for that matter. *tugs Tom Felton into bed* *never lets him leave*_

_I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you for the reviews and don't forget to drop more! Oh and read Flares! Thanks!_


	4. Exploiting Angels

You're in the dictionary

Next to what a bitch is

- Exit Calm – The Rapture

**oOoOo**

Due to their father heading into the school early, Clary was the one to wake her brother up. He groaned into his pillow that he was ill, that he couldn't go, but Clary snorted and yanked the covers off him, whining in disgust at the sight of the naked back view. "Do you _have to sleep naked?! __Is that a tattoo on your ass?!_"

"I can't sleep clothed" Jonathan grunted into his pillow, not embarrassed in the slightest. "Now fuck off. I have morning wood that I need to attend to before I can get up."

Clary really wanted to strangle him some days. And throw up on him afterwards.

It was as Clary was brushing her hair that the doorbell rang. She called for Jonathan to grab it as she dragged the brush through a particularly stubborn knot.

"I'll answer it naked" Jonathan warned her as he passed the bathroom door, still not wearing a stitch of clothing. Clary rolled her eyes. "Sure (!)"

"_Your fault when they faint, little sister."_

Clary didn't think he'd do it in a million years, answer the door naked. But oh he did.

Isabelle Lightwood just stared, her hand halfway towards the doorbell to ring again. Her eyes travelled south before she could stop them, spots of red appearing instantly in her cheeks.

"Well," Jonathan teased, lounging against the door-frame. "This is an unexpected but pleasant surprise."

Regaining her composure, Isabelle cleared her throat. "Answer the door naked often, do you?" She couldn't take her eyes off his chest. It was one hell of a chest; muscled in all the right places she liked her guys to be. Jonathan's hair was mussed from sleep, a lock of dark white hanging in his shadowy eyes.

Jonathan smiled, showing bright white teeth. It was feral, teasing. "You should have seen your face when you saw how big I was, darling. It was a picture."

Isabelle snorted in laughter, defiantly dropping her eyes down as if looking, but in retrospect, was looking at his knee. "That? What are you? Four inches?"

"Double that, add ten" he corrected her, scratching absent-mindedly at his chin.

She smirked, eyes meeting his own at long last, gaze defiant. "Sure. I believe you. Now where is Clary?"

"Upstairs somewhere" Jonathan murmured, reaching out a hand towards Isabelle's nose. She recoiled back slightly. "What are you doing?"

"It's cute" Jonathan said, his grin lopsided in a way that made Isabelle curse him for being so attractive. "Especially how it's still red."

Isabelle never got to reply as a scream sounded behind Jonathan, followed by a crash as Clary dropped her school-bag with a yell of _"Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern you get inside right now-!"_

Jonathan spun around, grinning ear to ear. "Right away little sister." He tossed a glance over his shoulder at Isabelle. "Later Izzy."

Clary slapped his bare arm hard enough to bruise when he walked past her, hissing out "you filthy little-!"

"Owww-!" Jonathan scowled, rubbing his arm indignantly as he walked back upstairs. "Rude."

Isabelle was still staring at the back view before Clary snapped her back into the now with a groan of "I am so, _so _sorry. Jonathan is a monstrous, impossible beast."

The girl giggled, cheeks still slightly red. "I don't know why he'd do that when he has nothing to show off. Pretty sure he isn't even two inches long."

Clary wanted to melt into the floor and seep through the cracks in the floorboards and vanish. "So um" she now spluttered. "Why are you at my door at this time of morning?"

Isabelle shrugged, eyes flickering to the house opposite. She sighed gently. "I came over to see Jace but... he wouldn't let me in. Yelled for his mother to... make me leave. Again." Her expression brightened slightly. "And I thought you might like a ride to school."

"I'm so sorry" Clary apologized, hitching her bag up onto her shoulder more. "I never got to pass Jace your message. He was horrible last night."

"What is wrong with him?" Isabelle suddenly pleaded, utterly taking Clary aback. "You know. I know you know."

Clary was torn. One side she wanted to tell Isabelle everything, fuck Jace. But...

"I can't" Clary smiled sadly. "I don't think he's ready to tell people yet, despite how much of a dick he is."

Isabelle's gaze flickered to the floor and she nodded a fraction. "He's like my brother" she muttered and for a moment Clary thought wildly that the girl was about to cry. "It kills me not being able to see him... and Aline will be later." Clary could hear the bitterness clear as day. "And he's such a stupid idiot for thinking she loves him. She's not capable of something like love."

"Oh" Clary blinked, surprised. "You know about that?"

The dark haired girl glowered at nothing in particular, figure stiffening. "I thought she was joking for a start, sending those letters... then she did. And it worked and the next thing you know, she's instantly popular for 'banging a soldier.'"

Clary was perplexed. "But you're friends?"

Isabelle met Clary's emerald green eyes, a dark smile spreading across her face. "Never in a million years. I am going to happily ruin her if she hurts Jace. I will tear her apart."

And in that moment, Clary never wanted to get on the bad side of Isabelle Lightwood.

It was funny, Clary thought, as she strolled through the school doors with Isabelle at her side. People looked twice, blinking in surprise as if they couldn't believe their eyes. Clary couldn't blame them – she was incredibly plain next to Isabelle's perfection. While she wore Converses, the other girl wore expensive heeled boots that came up to her knees.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad here if she had Isabelle as a friend.

**oOoOo**

Jace hated hospitals with a burning passion ever since he'd woken up to find he only had one and a half legs left. It would never leave his mind, the moment he'd found out what had happened to him after that burning hot afternoon out in the field with his comrades. After the shells, the explosions of the IED and screams of those same comrades he'd trained with for two years.

At first it had been funny to him, thinking the doctor was telling one extremely fucked up joke. But then as he realized he couldn't move his left leg, that turned into denial. And then anger and grief that took a hurtling dive into depression and despair.

It was the end of life as he knew it in his eyes.

"You need to let them take a look" Celine groaned as her son refused point-blank to allow the doctor to take the bandage off his stump and check it over. "Jace-"

"No" he growled, the blinding white of the room really not helping his mood. It stunk to high heaven of chemicals that made his head spin and nausea to rise in his throat. _It _was horrible. He didn't want anyone to see it. Even now he himself still couldn't look at it without wanting to throw up. How was he supposed to get used to this? Live with this?

"Mr. Herondale" the nurse smiled sadly, "I know it's traumatic-"

"Traumatic!?" Jace yelled, fury raging through him like wildfire. "I've lost my leg you little bitch Don't you fucking dare say _traumatic-!_"

"Jonathan" his father hissed, grabbing his son's shoulder with a hand and holding him in a tight vice-like grip. "You do _not _speak like that to people who are trying to help you. Or anyone for that matter. Apologize right now or we are leaving and if your leg gets infected and you get blood poisoning, it'll be your own fault."

"Stephen-!" Celine squeaked, tears burning in her eyes. Her husband glowered at her. "You are too soft on him."

Jace scowled. "Don't talk to her that way."

His father sighed and removed his hand from Jace's shoulder. "You've always been a handful, Jace. You can 't deny that. We are _trying _to help you, but you have to help us do that. Okay?"

It had hit his parents hard, Jace knew that yet he hadn't spared a thought for either of them. His mother crying at odd times just annoyed him, not... made him think how it was affecting them too.

"I'm sorry" Jace muttered, eyes dropping to the spotless white sheets on the bed. "I just don't know what to do anymore."

No one said anything as Celine hugged her son, pressing her lips to his cheek once before pulling away. Jace sighed and glanced to his severed leg. "Fine. Whatever. Do it. Not like I'm going to walk again."

The nurse smiled gently and shook her head. "There is a very good chance you will walk again Mr. Herondale."

"Sorry," Jace shot before he could help himself. "I'm rubbish at balancing on one leg."

Stephen glared.

"I meant prosthetics," the nurse explained, reaching down and picking up the clipboard where a small amount of pamphlets were clipped to it. "It won't be yet, but you most certainly will walk again."

He'd thought of prosthetics, but the thought of walking again had seemed so very impossible. How can you balance on something like a prosthetic? He didn't want to get his hopes up.

"This is the first step" the nurse told him, gesturing to his leg. "I need to check how the healing is progressing and fit him with a stump sock."

Jace stared as if she'd suddenly grown another head. "A what?"

"It goes over the end of your... you know what" Celine told him, unable to say the word. It still horrified her, what had happened to her only son.

"Oh" Jace understood. "Okay. No more bandages?"

The nurse nodded and gestured to the scissors set next to her. "Can I make a start or would you like another minute?"

Jace took a deep breath and closed his eyes – this was a start.

"Go for it."

**oOoOo**

Clary was finishing up her art homework after a surprisingly good day at school at Isabelle's side when the Herondale's returned. The sleek silver car pulled up into the drive and Celine climbed out first to get the front door open. Clary watched as Jace locked an arm around his father's shoulders and allowed him to help him get inside the house. She couldn't help but wonder what the hell he had on the end of his stump, for it was a neon pink and obviously not a bandage.

As if feeling her gaze upon him, Jace tossed a glance over his shoulder at her bedroom window just before the door was closed. It startled her, the hostility in his gaze, as if he was daring her to laugh at him

Why would she laugh? It was a horrible situation Jace was in. For all his bad manners, Clary still couldn't help the slight twinge of pity for him.

When the clock in her room struck six, she noticed the high-heeled figure strutting down the path opposite. Clary glared at the form of Aline Penhallow as she ascended the Herondale stairs and rapped on the door, visibly checking her make-up in her reflection.

_Turn her away, _she thought as Celine answered, looking visibly confused. _Don't let her in. That girl is bad news. _But a moment later, that same girl was inside and the door was shut once more.

Clary sighed lightly and dropped her gaze back to her homework.

**OooOo**

Jace didn't intend on telling Aline anything about his leg. Not that day anyway. He lay in bed with the thick covers just covering his narrow hips, the sweatpants hopefully bulky enough that she wouldn't notice the missing limb.

A knock sounded on his door just minutes after the doorbell rang and Jace took a deep breath to calm himself. Here went nothing; re-engaging with the outside world.

Had she always been so gorgeous? Jace couldn't believe his eyes when she stepped into his room and beamed at the sight of him. Tall, exotic with dark and smoky eyes and a killer rack straining against her cream vest.

"Jace!" she squealed happily, dashing across the room and throwing her arms around his shoulders. He was too surprised by the pair of well-rounded breasts in his face to say anything other than "uh, hey Aline."

She perched next to him on the edge of the bed where he was propped up on pillows, her face a wide smile. "You look great" she told him, eyes taking in his faint scars and last few healing cuts without judgement. Jace started to relax. "So do you. It's been too long."

Silence fell until Aline broke it by asking "so how are you feeling? Are those crutches by the door?"

Jace cursed himself internally for not asking his parents to hide them somewhere. He took a deep breath. "Well, yes. My leg isn't exactly working right now." Not working? It was gone. He found it disturbingly funny.

Aline pouted folding her hands upon her lap. "That sucks. I wanted to see you in your army gear."

Jace chuckled, leaning back in his bed. "Maybe another time. Certainly not getting up for that. Anyway-" he nodded to her attire of short-shorts and vest. "What's with the outfit? It's certainly not that warm." It was an incredibly hot sight. Jace prayed he didn't get a hard on right now.

A glance down at her outfit and Aline plucked at her vest. "I thought you would like it?" She grinned cheekily. "Do you?"

Jace cocked a brow; this wasn't the Aline he remembered, but... "I love it. Are you wearing panties?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she teased him, leaning down slightly. "Would you like to see if I am?"

This really wasn't the girl he remembered. Aline certainly had not been such a little minx with a dirty mind back then. Sure... she'd sent a few raunchy photographs to him in Afghanistan a couple of times, but she had never been like this.

"Naughty girl" he mused, trying and failing to not imagine Aline fully naked. It would be a heavenly sight. Aline giggled and raised a hand to his cheek, thumb brushing one of the faint scars there. "I've been dreaming about this for two years. Now... finally" she breathed. Without another word, Aline leaned down and their mouths met for a long moment. Jace licked his lips, revelling in the taste of her and pausing for a moment to curse his cock for twitching to life. Of all damn moments. He missed the touch of another human being that wasn't his parents so much it was a constant ache.

Jace crushed his lips back to Aline's own with a soft groan, raising a hand and twining it into her dark, luscious locks as he kissed her deeply, trying to drown in the raw sensations he hadn't felt for so very long. Her soft moans were music to his ears and he never wanted to stop hearing them. They made him feel like a man, not this cripple he was so sure he was.

"I want you" Jace muttered against her lips before he could stop himself. "And I shouldn't be. This is our first kiss. And my parents are downstairs." He felt vulnerable, as if some unknown force would strike him down for admitting it.

Aline's plump red lips travelled to Jace's ear where she nibbled at the lobe gently, her hand trailing down his body until it came to rest at his stomach. She smelled like expensive perfume, Jace noticed. It was cloying, making it hard to breathe.

"I'll be quick" she whispered into his ear, hand sliding down further and further until her fingers brushed the line of his sweatpants, teasing at the elastic. "Would you like my lips around your cock, soldier?"

_Oh god, _Jace thought with an internal groan. There was no going back now she'd said those words. But he wouldn't allow her to lower the covers down too much. It was a frightening thought. Even more frightening than the therapy he had to attend the next day. How could anyone else accept his disfigurement when he himself couldn't?

"_Yes."_

_**oOoOo**_

Aline left only an hour later, Clary noticed as the girl's shadow graced the side-walk. As she strutted away, Clary couldn't help but glare at her as she climbed into a car and applied some lipstick to her lips and then leave with an air about her that reminded Clary of the cat that got the cream. Jace was an idiot after all then.

"Stupid boy" Clary hissed to herself, surveying her room – it was still a mess from moving in. Boxes of art supplies were still packed away and her duvet cover wasn't on just yet. So much work to do, yet her room was the cleanest of the house right now. Jonathan's room was a mess as per usual. There were boxers strewn across the top of the stairs that Clary refused to touch, skirting around them.

Her laptop pinged as an email appeared in her inbox. It was instantaneous, how this cheered Clary up. Thoughts of Jace, Aline and her brother's filthy boxers left her mind as she plopped down onto the bed and drew her laptop towards her with a smile on her face.

_My dear Clary,_

_How was your first few days at this new school? Have you made some friends yet? What are your teachers and subjects like? I wish I was there to see your first day. You're growing up too fast for me to follow. Tell me everything. And how is Jonathan?_

_Lots of love, your mother._

It always made her smile, the emails from her mother. They were instant mood boosters and she obsessively checked her email whenever she could for them.

_Mom,_

_School has been okay. I miss my old school thought. I miss Simon and the old house. I've made a friend and her name is Isabelle Lightwood. She's a nice girl._

_We have a neighbour who has just come back from war himself. Jace Herondale. He's only a few years older than me and unfortunately, he's lost a leg from it. His attitude is certainly intact, because he is an asshole. Jonathan would love him. They would hook up and be married within a week. There's a bitch called Aline who is pretending to love Jace to get popular in school. It's so stupid. Girls can be so, so stupid. I hope Jace punches her because she is fouler than even him._

_Jonathan is okay. I think. He still wants to join you, of course, but lately he hasn't been bringing it up so much. I'm hoping this signals the end of his stupid plans. He'll die on the first day if he went, we both know that. He's skipped school already and started acting out. Not sure dad knows how to handle him anymore, or he's just tired of trying to control him because Jonathan is becoming wild. He answered the door naked to my friend this morning. He's losing his mind, or he just doesn't care about anything now._

_I miss you. Dad has put your photo up already in the living room. He wants you home, we all want you home. Have you found out when your term ends yet? It can't be much longer?_

_I love you, Clary._

Clary felt hollow by the end of her message, but still pressed Send and watched the screen change as the email soared away to a place thousands of miles away. She sniffed, tears burning in her eyes and a lump forming in her throat; She had to come back soon, right? Clary couldn't stop the tears from flowing as she got up and walked over to the curtains, reaching up to yank them closed with her eyes puffy and cheeks wet with tears.

A flash of gold made her look into the window opposite; Jace sat before the window gazing down at the street, his expression nothing short of heavily depressed. He looked like a man who had no idea what to do with himself.

Clary sighed and pulled the curtains closed with a loud rasp, closing her eyes with an internal groan. Asshole or not, she couldn't let the Penhallow bitch hurt Jace further than he already had been. It would be inhuman to just sit back and watch Aline use Jace until she left him a broken, empty shell.

"Seriously going to regret this" Clary muttered to herself as she picked up the box knife from her desk and set to work on unpacking her art materials.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Yes it's been a little while since I last updated, sorry! I've been suffering from a really nasty bout of writers block. Hopefully it's been cleared up now. Anyway... new chapter! Urgh. Aline. Go walk off a building. Thank you for the lovely reviews and enthusiasm! It's what's making me want to continue writing this story. Hope you enjoyed this chapter and drop more reviews! They dropped by half last chapter... that makes me very sad... :( _

_But now... a snippet of next chapter._

Aline shoved hard at Clary, causing her to topple into the wall behind. "You're going to tell him everything?" she sneered at her, eyes narrowing in nothing short of disgust. "He wouldn't believe a little bitch like you. Go on, I dare you; tell him."

Clary glared, her hands balling into fists by her side. "Jace isn't a game."

"All men are games, little Clarissa. You've just got to learn how to play your cards right until you win the jackpot."

Clary's eyes blazed with cold, hard fury. She drew her first back and-

(mwahaha we'll stop there)


	5. Halloween

Every time I try to walk through walls

More walls appear

- Ghost Story – Coldplay

**oOoOo**

**2 Weeks later**

"Here?"

"Fucking ouch! Yes there!"

Jace glared at the physiotherapist as she moved to a new spot and applied pressure to it. Gritting his teeth, he hissed "Yes, there too." Next to him, Celine watched with eyes so worried Jace wasn't sure what made him feel more sick – her expression or the pain shooting up the remains of his leg.

"Ow!" Jace winced now. "That hurt too." Even with his large pain threshold, this was some painful shit.

The woman's smile was sad when Jace saw it. "You are not in pain, Mr Herondale. Not in the way you think; What you are experiencing is called Phantom Limb. It's when your body still hasn't adjusted to the missing limb and-"

Jace stiffened, interrupting with "so my missing limb is hurting? It's not even there."

"Your body will eventually come to terms with the severance, the nerve endings no longer acting as if attached to your missing limb."

He wished she'd stop saying 'missing limb.' It made him feel even more nauseous.

"Massaging your stump will help the healing process," the physiotherapist now advised him. "It's a very common after-effect of having ones limb amputated."

There was the dreaded 'missing limb' thing again.

Celine leaned forwards in her seat. "How long will this last? When will I be able to return to work?"

The physiotherapist smiled gently, tapping a finger against the clipboard set on her lap. "Sometimes, it can take years. It varies by person. It doesn't physically hurt, so to speak, but mentally the pain is terrible. As for work, you can start immediately-" she nodded to Jace sat upon the narrow bed, his expression a dark scowl. "Your son has demonstrated he is adept at adapting to the situation physically, starting to move about the house on crutches."

Celine nodded, twisting her hands together upon her knee. "I don't plan on working full time. I'm not... currently able to." Her smile was weak but bright in a way that made Jace arch a brow – was she hiding something from him? "But the school where my neighbour has taken my place keeps asking me to help them with... things" she finished lamely. Soon, she would tell Jace what was wrong – no, not wrong exactly, but what prevented her from working. Not yet; he had far too many problems to add this to his list of worries.

"Do you have family or friends in the immediate vicinity that Jace could call if he required help?"

Jace's expression darkened. "I'm not helpless."

Celine shushed him. "Well, we have Stephen's mother, Imogen. But she doesn't live this side of the city."

"And she's a bitch" Jace breathed under his breath, ignoring his mother's disapproving glance.

"What about neighbours?" the woman asked now and Celine looked thoughtful. "They are very good people, but Jace doesn't exactly... get along with strangers."

The physiotherapist ceased her tapping. "Ask who you believe you can trust" she told the woman.

**oOoOo**

Clary had never really liked Halloween. When they had been much younger, Jonathan had dragged her along to trick or treat and exchanged her for an entire bucket of candy, leaving her there at Simon's house. Their mother had screamed at Jonathan that he was irresponsible when he'd returned home without his nine-year old sister, their father nowhere in sight, the pair having slipped past him.

Isabelle yawned widely as she scratched another word off the seemingly endless list. "This Halloween party is going to be the death of us."

"You," Clary reminded her. "I'm not interested in this."

The raven-haired girl whined, setting the pen down on the linoleum covered table in the school cafeteria. "Clary, you are the artistic one of us both. Aline is no help..." she scowled, tossing a glance over her shoulder where the girl was sat in full cheerleader uniform on the other side of the cafeteria surrounded by her fellow cheerleaders. "She keeps going on and on about how big Jace is and..." she trailed off, shuddering. "Why hasn't Jace seen the light yet, that Aline doesn't love him?"

Clary scoffed in disbelief. "I doubt she gives him any time to think about anything while she sucks his dick."

Isabelle gagged quietly. "The fact he wants to see that _skank, _but not me-!" she crossed another word off the list so violently the pen shredded a hole through the paper.

To be honest, Clary was shocked Isabelle hadn't lost her temper and smacked Aline in the last few weeks. Or had gone around to see Jace, not wanting to see her be damned. There had been times she herself had wanted to rip off Aline's face. Their greatest clash so far had been in art when Aline had forgotten to do her homework and tried to steal Clary's to claim it was her own. She had succeeded in taking a watercolour.

Clary had never been so happy to see her father substitute a class. The moment Valentine had seen Aline's 'homework,' a piece he'd watched Clary do with his own eyes, he had cocked a brow and sent her out for thievery.

At lunch Aline had tried to upset Clary by calling her a daddy's girl. Clary had thrown her chocolate ice cream at the girl's white blouse with a wide smile on her face. Detention had been worth it.

"Urgh, she's coming over" Izzy hissed as Aline rose from her seat and trotted over to their table, hips swaying in a way that made her ass wobble like Jello, Clary noticed. How was that sexy?

"Are you done yet?" Aline asked, perching her Jello ass on the edge of their table.

Isabelle smiled sweetly, eyes burning with hatred. "Not yet. You could, you know... help?"

Aline waved a hand as if it was the most repulsive idea in the world. "God no. This is why we have servants, Iz-" her gaze flickered to Clary who was immediately overcome with such a rush of hatred she said, rising to her feet, "what does Jace see in you? Someone will tell him the truth, you must realize this."

Without warning, Aline shoved hard at Clary, causing her to topple into the wall behind. "You're going to tell him everything?" she sneered, eyes narrowing in nothing short of disgust as Clary straightened up. "He wouldn't believe a little bitch like you. Go on, I dare you; tell him."

Clary glared, her hands balling into fists by her side. "Jace isn't a game."

"All men are games, little Clarissa. You've just got to learn how to play your cards right until you win the jackpot."

"You-!" Clary's eyes blazed with cold, hard fury. She drew her fist back and readied herself to punch Aline right in her smug face, but before she could pound the bitch a new one, a hand caught her wrist.

"Now now" Jonathan announced, letting his sister's wrist go a moment later. "No bitch-fighting Clary." His eyes, usually dark, were as deep and as endless as a black hole today. He narrowed them as they fixed themselves upon Aline. "Want me to slap her for you?"

Sensing the battle was lost for her, Aline straightened up sharply. "You tell Jace and I will make your life _hell_" she spat at Clary before turning away and returning to her table.

Jonathan rolled his eyes, turning to Clary. "Am I going to have to follow you around like a little lost puppy to keep you from getting your face kicked in?"

Clary sat back down with a soft growl. "It's her who will get kicked in the face."

With a snigger, Jonathan's eyes flickered to Isabelle. "Seriously babe? You were going to let this little spat happen?"

Isabelle glared at Jonathan, expression nothing short of murder. "Don't call me _babe. _I'm not your girlfriend."

A pale eyebrow rose as Jonathan folded his arms across his chest. "Don't be like that... babe." He smirked and flashed the girl a swift wink before retreating from the cafeteria.

"I swear wherever I go, that creep of a brother pops up to... annoy me!" Isabelle hissed as she threw herself down into the chair next to Clary. "Maybe I should invest in a tracking system and attach one to him so I can avoid him."

Clary's foul mood gave way to amusement. "It wouldn't work."

"Yeah," Isabelle muttered in distaste, picking up her pen once more. "I thought that. Now... party planning?"

Clary groaned in defeat. "Fine. But if I do, will you lay off trying to make me tell Jace about Aline? I will tell him, believe me... I just don't know how I can. Like she said; it's not like he'll believe me."

Izzy shrugged. "Fine"

**oOoOo**

When Halloween arrived, Jace's mood had dropped from unpleasant to downright cruel. With the pain in his missing leg worse than ever, it affected him more than he'd ever let on.

The day his father snapped was when Celine offered to help Jace into the bath, barely being able to do it himself.

"You know I don't do the whole shirtless thing!" He'd roared, hands clenched into fists. He'd yelled at her to go away, the fear of being seen shirtless burning away anything rational he could say. "You stupid bitch! How can you be so damn idiotic?!"

Attracted by his son's yelling, Stephen had punched him straight in the face, ignoring Celine's squeal of horror and surprise. With a grunt, the elder man wound a hand into Jace's shirt and yanked him close, not caring in the least if it hurt, the crutch tumbling to the floor beside them.

"Say that again" his father growled into his face, eyes narrow and dark with fury. "I don't care if you're my son, Jace, but if you say anything like that again, or act that way with your mother again, I will happily break your nose."

"Stephen-!" Celine squeaked, eyes wide and a hand over her mouth. "Let him go, now!"

Jace's terrible anger vanished instantly at the sight of the tears in his mother's eyes, the fight in him draining away to numbness as the gravity of the situation truly started to sink in.

"I'm s- sorry-" Jace gasped, eyes widening with the numbness spreading through his body. He felt sick in horror at what he'd said... said to his own mother.

He was a monster.

Carefully, Stephen lowered Jace until he was sat atop the edge of the bath, a sigh in his throat. "Son," he said in defeat, "you can't talk to your mother like that."

"I know. I'm so, so sorry. I just don't know what's wrong with me." Jace raised a hand and wound it into his hair that had grown so much since his return from war. "I can't help it. I don't know... what to do. Mom..."

Celine glanced to her husband and sighed gently, touching his shoulder as she stepped closer. "Leave me alone with him a moment."

Without a word, Stephen left. Celine sighed once more, but in defeat this time. She slipped her small hands into her son's calloused ones and smiled faintly. "I've been acting a little... crazy lately too. And just like you, I can't help it." She took a deep breath. "I didn't want to tell you just yet because... I know you. You are going to be horrified at what you've been saying and how you've been acting towards me even more. I'm pregnant, Jace."

She was right; instantly, Jace was crushed by the staggering guilt at the grief he'd been giving his mother. He flinched slightly but kept his hands tight around her own. "How..." Jace started raggedly, "how far along are – are you?"

"Just over four months" Celine admitted and Jace's eyes dropped to the tiled floor. The numbness returned now as he nodded and muttered "I'm so useless."

"No" Celine sighed, pulling her hands from Jace's and cupping his scarred cheeks into them. "You are not. You are a hero, Jace. I don't care what you say, how many times you claim not to be, refusing that medal, but you _are _a hero. You are far from useless. You have survivors guilt."

He'd heard that term so many times while recovering he'd grown to hate the damn words. He swallowed hard and shook his head. "Mom, I don't want to talk about it. Please."

She nodded and leaned forwards, pressing her lips to her son's forehead briefly. "Okay baby. You don't have to hide from me, you know that Jace? I love you."

Jace said nothing for a long moment. "I look... terrible."

"I love you" Celine said fiercely, letting Jace go and straightening up. "And I am your mother. I've seen your burns and scars before. Did I comment then?"

He was so very lucky to have them, Jace knew that. But even they couldn't eradicate the horrors in his heart, the depression in his soul and the loneliness not even seeing Aline could eradicate.

_I'm doomed,_ Jace thought.

**oOoOo**

Clary felt like a kiddy face-painter when Jonathan nabbed her Halloween evening and told her he wanted her to paint his face like Tate Langdon from American Horror Story.

"Is that a fake gun?" Clary growled as Jonathan bought down his outfit for the high school party. He shrugged, choosing not to answer the question. "So can you do my face or not? I've got the trench-coat and everything. I rang Izzy and asked her to go as Violet but she wouldn't play ball." He rolled his eyes. "She's going as the damn Black Swan. The only best bit about that film was when the two chicks went down on each other."

Clary immediately crossed that film from her To Watch list.

"Where did you get Izzy's phone number from?" Clary asked suspiciously. Jonathan flashed her a grin; with his smoothed back white-blond hair, he looked as crazy and as creepy as Tate Langdon himself. "From your phone, of course. You really should invest in a password, little sister."

"You are such a big shit."

"I thought the term was 'little shit?'"

Clary arched a brow at her elder brother. "You don't qualify for 'Little.' Now sit down, shut up and let me work. I need to get dressed as well."

Her own outfit was one Jonathan was probably going to laugh at – Anna from Disney's Frozen. Maybe she should have asked him to go as Elsa. That would have been a sight. Working with her art teacher, the pair had managed to create a passable replica of Anna's dress from the coronation. Clary loved it, even if it did mean having to wear her hair like a literal princess.

"What are you going as?" Jonathan repeatedly asked as Clary painted his face, occasionally earning a snarl of "Stay still!" but nothing else. He'd find out sooner rather than later... and laugh himself silly.

And laugh he did when she came downstairs an hour after painting his face like a skull wearing her coronation gown.

St. Xaviers high school was an explosion of cobwebs and cheap plastic spiders when Clary and Jonathan arrived, hitching a ride with their father who had insisted on photos together before they left. Other teenagers would be embarrassed that their father bought them to a dance in full view of the crowds, but not the Morgenstern siblings; not like anyone was going to poke fun at the terrifying principle that handed out detentions left and right. Even Jonathan had received a good few from his father.

Valentine clucked his disapproval as he walked between his children into the loud and rowdy gym hall where it was pitch black but for the bright green lights and occasional strobe lighting. The party was already in full swing with the young couples dancing so close together it reminded Clary of a mosh pit at a concert.

"What a waste of money" Valentine grumbled just loud enough for the pair to hear over the pounding of the stereos, eyeing up a couple dashing past him holding hands. "God knows how many children are going to be conceived tonight."

Clary groaned and rolled her eyes, jamming a hand into her bag and pulling out a pair of fake plastic vampire teeth. "Here- put them in. It'll go well with your suit" she yelled over the noise.

Her father stared at the fake fangs as if they were a bomb that might go off any moment. Without a word, he turned away and left his children alone.

Jonathan sniggered next to her, ducking his head down so he could say over the din "where's Izzy?"

A tap on her shoulder answered his question. Clary turned to stare at Isabelle who looked positively terrifying in her Black Swan get-up, feathered wings strapped to her back and heels that really didn't look safe upon her feet. She grinned, looking down at Clary's outfit, yelling "You look amazing!"

"What about me?" Jonathan asked, leaning closer with his smile as sharp as an unsheathed blade. "Dad made me leave the shotgun at home. Worried cops would come and arrest me."

Isabelle snorted and arched a delicate brow at him. "It would be an improvement, you in prison orange."

"Let's be real" Jonathan winked, "I would rock that colour. Don't deny it."

She grimaced. "Don't you have a bunch of fangirls to go and hook up with?"

Checking his watch, Jonathan nodded. "As a matter of fact, I do. Laters guys." Isabelle snarled when the boy sneaked a quick kiss on her cheek as he passed, swinging her clutch bag at him violently and only just missing.

Already Clary had a headache as Isabelle led her through the densely packed crowds over to where a boy with ink-coloured hair was sat in an outfit that made Clary giggle- Loki.

"Alec!" Isabelle yelled over the noise. "You're supposed to be behind the liquor table!"

Adjusting his golden horned helmet, Alec grumbled "Aline and her angel sluts shoved me and Thor- I mean Magnus away."

Oh! Clary realized, this was Alex, Izzy's brother. She hadn't met the elusive boy but had heard much about him; mostly from the whispers that he and a boy called Magnus Bane were dating.

Izzy's expression darkened. "Is she bullying you about Magnus again?"

Alec winced and shook his head. "She isn't. Seriously, Iz, she isn't. But Magnus isn't being... conspicuous. _Have you seen what he's wearing?_"

"I thought Thor and Loki were brothers?" Isabelle now said, perplexed. "Why didn't you do a cute couple outfit, not incest?"

Clary's inner Marvel geek burst out. "They're not actually brother and sister. Thor is an Asgardian and Loki is a Frost Giant. Well, he's a blueberry under the surface. Or something."

Isabelle just stared for a long moment, then shook her head. "God, I need a drink." She left Clary alone with Alec. Clary cleared her throat quietly. "It's nice to finally meet you. Izzy has told me all about you."

Alec nodded, avoiding her eyes. "The same. I'm actually... going now. Can you make sure Izzy doesn't get drunk and crash her car?"

Clary nodded. "I won't."

Isabelle knocked back her fourth cup of liquor stolen from beneath the beer table, feeling utterly sour as she watched Aline who was dressed as a barely-dressed devil surrounded by her angel hoes laugh loudly at something, casting the occasional glance towards her brother. She wished Jonathan hadn't stopped Clary from slapping the bitch. And she didn't know what Alec meant by Magnus looking stupid, for his Thor outfit was amazing. Even if he did have black hair beneath his helmet and his shirt was wide open. It wasn't like her brother's boyfriend was ugly.

She spied Jonathan in a corner with a bunch of girls happily chatting away to him, his arms around a girl dressed like Wonder Woman's shoulder. Isabelle crushed the paper cup in her hand into a ball and dropped it onto the floor, turning away with a sour expression. After a few more cups of stolen Jack Daniels, her head felt light and her stomach queasy. She wanted to go home but Alec wasn't here and she couldn't blink away the fog in her eyes. This was a party she helped organize and she hated it. Who had created the new play-list? Because it wasn't her.

Outside, Isabelle swore as the heel of her stiletto snapped as she stumbled in the parking lot while searching for her car. She would have hit the floor and grazed her knees terribly if it hadn't been for the arms catching her with a "whoa there-!"

Isabelle kicked off her stilettos and steadied herself, squinting at her saviour through the haze of alcohol. His face was a skull.

"Jonathan?"

He scowled as he held her arms to prevent her from stumbling again. "Fucking hell, how much have you drunk?"

Isabelle shrugged, pulling away from him. "I'm looking for my car. I want to sleep."

"Drive? Are you kidding me?" Jonathan laughed wildly, snatching the keys from her hands and pressing the lock, spying the flashing light of a car near to them through the darkness. "Get in. I'll take you home."

"You? No. Anyone but yo-" Isabelle never finished as she suddenly heaved and threw up on the silver car next to them. Jonathan groaned and clamped his hand around Isabelle's wrist. "Right. No arguing, you're getting in that car and I'm taking you somewhere where there is a toilet."

She gave up the fight as the alcohol burned her throat, feet aching against the rough parking lot.

When Jonathan had the girl safe in the back of her car, he groaned, resting his head back against the rest. Where did she live? Asking her to give directions was out of the question. Leaving her here wasn't an option either. The only place he could take her was...

"Dad's gonna kill me" Jonathan muttered as he gunned the engine and pulled out of the lot.

**oOoOo**

They had all abandoned her. Clary had canvassed the entire party at least ten times and each time she came up with nothing. Isabelle and Jonathan were both gone. Even Alec Lightwood was gone. For two hours she sat alone, bored and dejected as she waited for her father to announce the best outfits and finish his patrol.

"When you see you brother, tell him I am _not _happy with him leaving the party without telling me" Valentine raged the entire way home, Clary feeling utterly miserable with her head down.

"Do private parking spaces mean nothing to these idiots?!" he growled when the pair returned home to find the drive blocked by a dark red car that seemed faintly familiar to Clary. While her father stormed inside without a glance back, Clary took longer, checking her phone once more to see if Isabelle had messaged, or Jonathan. But there was nothing.

Clary kicked off her boots the moment she walked into her room, ignoring the bang they created as they hit the wall.

If only Simon had been at that party. It would have been such a blast and she would have left it happy, not angry and frustrated.

The porch light opposite her house flashed a few times out of Clary's eye, but it wasn't that that caught her eye, but rather the figure limping down the steps. She watched as the figure sat down on the edge of the road, but fell the last bit, landing with a visible crunch. Clary flinched and didn't pause to think as she hurried downstairs and out of the front door, passing the pumpkin she'd carved earlier. It glared at her as she paused before the front door, eyes flickering orange.

He'd moved from the edge of the road to the middle of it, lying on his back and staring up at the cloudy dark sky. It was a miserable Halloween evening.

Casting a glance each way to check there was no traffic coming, Clary walked over to the figure and crouched down next to him. "Trying to get yourself run over?"

Jace laughed softly, still staring directly upwards. "Yeah."

"Why? Actually, no, get up right now before a car does turn you into a pancake."

He turned his head and frowned as he took in Clary's attire. "What the hell are you wearing?"

Clary's gaze flickered downwards to her dress. "It's Halloween. There was a party at school. Now come on; move."

He stiffened as Clary grabbed a hold of his shoulder, tugging him up into a sitting position. She ignored his resistance as she hauled him with great difficulty over to the sidewalk in front of his house, face a scowl. "What are you trying to _do? What are you doing out here?_"

Jace shrugged, shoulders sagged in defeat. "I told you; I wanted to get run over. I'm pathetic. I'm done. I should have died, not them."

Clary frowned, crouched down before him. "Stupid question, but are you okay?"

Blank golden eyes met emerald green. "Why are you even asking that? You hate me, I hate you."

"I don't hate you" Clary scowled. "Now get your ass up and lean on me and I'll get you back inside. I'm guessing your parents aren't nearby, yeah? They wouldn't have let you do this."

Ignoring his angry words and jerks as he tried to pull away, Clary heaved him back up the stairs and inside where she deposited him upon the sofa. She folded her arms and shook her head briefly. "Why did you want to get turned into road kill?"

"Fuck off."

"I think we both know I'm not about to do that" Clary told him matter-of-factly. "I don't want your death on my conscience."

"Ha fucking ha, ginger bitch."

Clary tutted and arched a brow. "Be serious; apart from the obvious, are you okay?"

"No!" Jace roared, wishing he could stand up and storm out of the room, but he couldn't. The best he could do was hobble on his crutches and she'd laugh at him, he was sure. "I'm not o-" his voice cracked, and to his utter horror, tears spilled from his eyes. He tried to tell the girl to leave but no words formed upon his lips.

Clary hadn't seen Jace in just over two-weeks, but she was seeing him now. It was plain to see to someone even like her; he was beyond depressed.

"Do you want to talk about anything?" Clary asked gingerly, hoping he would take her seriously, not as a joke.

Expression guarded, Jace shook his head once. "No. I don't. But... thank you" he added grudgingly. "I see you every morning" Jace told her, eyes staring into her own without flinching or hostility. "Looking at my window with fucking pity in your eyes."

It was true she looked at his window every morning, but not with pity in her eyes. "You're seeing things."

Jace's eyes narrowed in distaste. "Yeah," he scoffed. "I'm seeing things. Go away. Leave me alone and don't come back. And if you tell my parents about tonight-"

"What are you going to do?" Clary scowled, folding her arms tighter. "Stand up and hit me?" She immediately regretted her words when Jace flinched, his guard higher than ever.

"Sorry" she apologised. "That wasn't nice."

Jace's guard fell as he muttered, voice tired "look- I'm not going to go hobble back into traffic, okay? You can go. I just want to go to bed."

"You're not lying, are you?"

"I am not lying. I swear."

Clary nodded and made to turn away, but a new thought floated into her mind and she faced Jace once more. "And don't take this the wrong way, but... stay away from Aline Penhallow. She's not a good person. She will do you more harm than good. Please."

Jace glared, eyes completely dry. "I think it's time you left."

It saddened Clary to think _You'll know soon. One way or another. _He wasn't a bad man, just in agony. And pain did terrible things to a person, both mentally and physically.

She'd lied; she did look at his window with pity every morning. Pity for what he'd been through and what was still coming.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Hello there guys! New chapter! And yes, that was a lovely long Halloween one, wasn't it? Nope, no punching Aline in the face... yet. Boo! Thank you for all the lovely reviews last chapter! And again... a short snippet!_

Clary just stared at Celine Herondale in undisguised shock. "You want... me to watch Jace for the evening?"

The woman nodded, her face a wide smile. "I trust you Clary. I also trust that you won't let him walk all over you."

"You don't have to worry about that" Clary laughed weakly. "Isn't there anyone else who could-?"

Celine shook her head. "Yes, of course, but I'd like you to do it. Jace suggested that... foul girlfriend of his, but I can't stand her."

Clary's respect for the woman shot sky-high.

_Don't forget to review! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!_


	6. A Little Bit Broken

She's got lions in her heart

And a fire in her soul

He's got a beast in his belly

That's so hard to control

- The Script - Superheroes

**oOoOo**

Isabelle groaned as she rolled over in the bed, burying her face more into the hard and uncomfortable pillow. It smelt so very different than the usual vanilla, almost like boy cologne and-

The pillow was moving below her. Up. Down. Up. Down.

Isabelle screamed bloody murder as she flung herself from the bed, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings; the room was a mess, the covers and sheets black, not her shocking neon pink. It was not her bed and the bed in question certainly wasn't empty.

Jonathan awoke with a start, almost falling off the side of the bed in his haste to sit up. With a squeak, Isabelle yanked down her dress that had rolled up, eyes wide. She then screamed "DID YOU HAVE SEX WITH MY PASSED OUT BODY?!"

Jonathan didn't have time to reply as the door crashed open and both his father and sister piled in, Valentine holding a baseball bat, he wildly noted. As soon as he saw the girl on the floor and his son still trying to detangle himself from the screwed up sheets, he bellowed "SO THIS IS WHERE YOU'VE BEEN?!"

"No!" Jonathan cried, finally escaping from the sheets, eyes wide and expression guarded. "No! Izzy wasn't very well last night so I bought her here because I didn't know where she lived!"

Clary gaped at her friend, taking in the bright red face and tired eyes; she didn't look too well even now. Izzy was glaring at Jonathan as if she could set him alight just by her filthy look.

"Come on!" Jonathan now rounded on Isabelle. "Tell them the truth! I only put you up here so they wouldn't find you downstairs and cause a fuss for either of us!"

Isabelle hissed like a feral cat. "So you put me in your bed?!"

"Well I could hardly put you on the floor!"

"You should have!" Isabelle screamed, snatching up her black wings from the floor, her make-up and face paint smudged upon Jonathan's pillow. She shoved past Clary and her father without another word and the front door slammed a moment later.

Valentine raised the bat and pointed it at his son, eyes narrowing. "Did you touch her?"

"NO!" Jonathan roared, his hair a mess on one side of his head from where he'd been sleeping on it. "I was worried about her! She wasn't very well!"

The elder man's eyes were still narrow. "If I find out otherwise, we w-"

"I WAS HELPING HER!" Jonathan snarled, voice cracking from the volume. "FUCK OFF. GET OUT." And with that, he slammed the door in Clary and his father's face.

While Valentine left instantly, Clary sighed and knocked on her brother's door. "Let me in Jon."

Silence.

"I will start singing Do You Wanna Build A Snowman, god help me."

The door flew open and Clary was faced with her brother's furious red face. She slipped inside and closed the door before turning to him. "Jon," she said wearily. "I know how you act around Isabelle. You didn't do anything, did you?"

He stared at her, dazed as if she'd hit him with something heavy. "You think," he muttered, evidently horrified, "that I-? Get out."

"Jonath-"

"Get the fuck out of my room, Clarissa. Or I'll throw you from it myself."

**oOoOo**

A few days after Halloween, Jonathan tracked down Isabelle at lunch and tugged her into the music room, standing before the door so she couldn't escape him. Not this time.

"What kind of creep are you?" Isabelle glowered as she tugged her bag back onto her shoulder where Jonathan had knocked it off.

Jonathan groaned in frustration, folding his arms across his chest. "Look- I didn't touch you. You were wobbling all over the place you were that liquored up."

A snort of disbelief. "Did you jack off all over me that night?" Isabelle narrowed her eyes, expression disgusted. "Because that's what most boys would have done with me in their bed."

"I'm not 'most boys'" Jonathan snapped, taking a step forward with his hair dark in the low light of the room. "I'm not an animal."

Isabelle didn't take a step back as Jonathan stopped directly before her, taller than her even though she was wearing high heels. He arched a pale brow. "Why won't you believe that I was just looking out for you? Technically, I rescued you before some guy took advantage of you."

She finally took a step back, expression hardening. "I am not some damsel in distress, and you are not the dashing prince" Isabelle said testily.

He cracked a grin at that, raising a hand and flicking a lock of stray midnight hair from Isabelle's dark eyes. "Actually," he told her lightly, "I'm more of a rogue. A rogue with morals."

Isabelle snorted. "That remains to be seen." Without another word, she shouldered her way past the boy and shoved the door open, leaving him alone in the dark music room.

**oOoOo**

Exactly a week after Halloween, Clary took a deep breath at the end of school as she walked along the sidewalk with Isabelle alongside her. "There's nothing going on with you and my brother... is there?"

Isabelle glared and Clary held up a hand in surrender.

Clary stopped dead as they rounded the corner and was faced with the sight of Aline and a girl from her maths class locked at the lips inside a flashy red car. It was as if they had a radar, for Aline broke the kiss and looked towards Clary, her expression twisting into a glower. A moment later the car was rumbling away down the street.

"You've been holding out on me" Clary grumbled to Isabelle as she turned to her friend. Isabelle shrugged, her smile tight. "Her name is Helen Blackthorn. They've been together for over a year now. No one but the cheerleaders know she swings both ways."

Clary's hands balled into fists by her side, anger sparking in her chest. "How does that Helen even put up with her? She _must _know Aline is cheating!"

Isabelle sighed, eyes dropping to the sidewalk. "Personally, I believe Helen is a little afraid of Aline. Why she won't say anything about it to her."

And just like that, Clary hated Aline Penhallow even more if that was possible.

When Isabelle dropped Clary off outside her home, she pointedly ignored Jonathan as he arrived a little after them, speeding off with the tires screaming against the tarmac.

"She hates me, huh?" Jonathan sighed, rolling his eyes in exasperation as Clary made to get by him and into the house. "She's the one who cuddled up to me. She's a good cuddler" he added as an afterthought.

"Well, what were you thinking wi-?"

"_Clary?"_

Clary turned to watch Celine Herondale hurry across the road towards her, a thick tan coat wrapped around her and cheeks bright pink from the cold. She smiled as she stopped before her. "I'm glad I caught you."

Clary's own smile was confused. It wasn't like she saw the woman very often. "Can I help you?"

Celine nodded, wrapping the coat around her more tightly. "Yes. You can. You see... Stephen and I have to attend a meeting tomorrow evening and... long story short, I don't want Jace to be left alone. Not in his condition."

Clary just stared at Celine Herondale in undisguised shock. "You want... me to watch Jace for the evening?"

The woman nodded, her face a warm smile. "I trust you Clary. I also trust that you won't let him walk all over you."

"You don't have to worry about that" Clary laughed weakly. "I'm hardly the best person for this. Isn't there anyone else who could-?"

Celine shook her head. "Yes, of course, but I'd like you to do it. Jace suggested that... foul girlfriend of his, but I can't stand her."

Clary's respect for the woman shot sky-high.

"He doesn't know that you're asking me, does he?" Clary asked grimly. "He will not be pleased."

The elder woman nodded, a lock of honey coloured hair tumbling into her eye that she brushed back impatiently. "Another reason why you are better suited than family or other neighbours; he knows he won't be able to try anything with you."

Watch Jace for the evening? Grumpy one-legged Jace? Clary would have preferred to drink acid, but the woman looked more than a little desperate. She forced out a convincing smile. "I'll help. What time shall I come over?"

"Seven please. I'm really sorry" Celine apologised, eyes wide and nervous. In them Clary saw Jace when he'd had his Halloween breakdown. "I know it's a school-night and you most likely have homework, but I can't spend the evening wondering if he's okay."

Clary envied Jace for having such a loving, caring mother. It also made the ache in her chest for her own mother hurt even more. She missed her, wanted her back.

"It's fine."

"I'll pay you" Celine assured her. "Don't worry about that."

Clary frowned and shook her head. "No, you don't have to do that."

"I insist th-"

"No" Clary pressed. "No money. Or I really will feel like a babysitter."

Celine flushed a deep red. "Well I... thank you. Money actually is rather... tight at the moment. Thank you Clary. I've got to get back, thank you again." And she turned away, a smile on her face as she returned to the house. As the door shut, Clary swore she'd seen the curtains upstairs flutter slightly as they were closed.

**OooOo**

The next morning, the last thing Jonathan was expecting was to get summoned to his father's office at school. For once, he hadn't done anything that could attract his attention such as kissing girls up against the science block's wall, a hand up her skirt and a moan on her lips. In his defence, she'd shoved his hand up there, not him. But it still didn't stop his father yelling at him in the way father's could.

"What now?" he said grumpily as he shut the office door behind him without knocking, announcing his arrival.

Valentine was sat behind his desk, a laptop open before him that Jonathan recognized instantly as Clary's. He frowned. "What are you doing with Clary's laptop?"

"Sit" was all Valentine said, not looking up from the screen. When Jonathan didn't move, he repeated, voice almost deadly. _"Sit." _

He sat.

Silence, then Valentine said pleasantly "So. Clary left her laptop on this morning when she left early, and when I went to turn it off, guess what I saw on her screen?" he turned the laptop around and Jonathan's blood ran cold- he knew.

"_What are these?_" Valentine snarled, pushing the laptop towards his son. "What have you done?"

Jonathan said nothing but for "the right thing."

The laptop was slammed shut and Valentine Morgenstern rose to his feet, midnight eyes blazing in cold, hard fury. "You fool-!" he snarled, shoving the chair back. "So _this _is why Clary keeps bringing up the subject of... _her!_" he raked a hand through his hair and turned away.

A muscle twitched in Jonathan's cheek. "Better this than her thinking some other alternative while you cower away from telling her the truth. I won't be the one to tell her, you will."

Jonathan didn't flinch as his father grabbed the armrests either side of him and glowered down at him, half-yelling "your- her mother is _dead. _That would destroy her. Better her think she's run off and still alive."

"No" Jonathan snapped, shoving at his father's chest and climbing to his feet. "You think you're protecting her, but you are _not. _What even compelled you to keep this a secret from her, huh? Her and I are the same. If I managed to hide my grief, she can handle it."

"She isn't as strong as you, Jonathan-"

"Bullshit" Jonathan spat, eyes narrowed in fury. "There is no excuse for not telling Clary what's happened. None at all."

Valentine closed his eyes and shook his head faintly. "What were you thinking? Pretending to be your mother and sending her messages? If what I have done is cruel, yours is incomprehensible."

Jonathan turned away to the door, placing a hand atop the handle. Before he walked out of the door, he told his father "any hope is better than no hope at all. Mother taught me that."

Yes, Clary was going to hate him when she found out, but he didn't care; seeing her somewhat happy was better than some broken mess knowing her mother had been dead for two years.

**OooOo**

Jace wondered who the hell could be visiting him in the middle of the day when his mother called that he had a visitor. Her voice disapproving he noted. So it was Aline then. Why she hated the girl so much, he had no idea.

He grinned, tugging the covers more over his legs as Aline walked into the room. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

Aline dumped her bag next to him and threw herself into his arms, pressing a long and hard kiss to Jace's lips. When she pulled away, she giggled "double math. You're much more interesting."

He tapped the tip of her nose. "Bad girl."

She giggled again, a hand slipping underneath his shirt. Jace flinched and her hand slid from beneath. He laughed to hide his discomfort. "So what do you want to do?"

"You" she said shamelessly, eyes roving downwards. "I've been thinking about it all morning."

Jace's discomfort grew. "Sorry babe, I'm not in the mood."

Aline frowned and sat back, folding her arms. "Why won't you have sex with me? I thought you liked me..."

He sighed, rolling his eyes. "I do. But... I'm not in the mood. Mom is downstairs anyway."

"Excuses" Aline hissed. "You love what I do to you, but you won't do that to me!"

"Well," he mused, "you don't have a dick. How am I supposed to do 'what I do to you?'"

Aline growled, picking up her bag and hoisting it onto her shoulder. "Fuck you. You're so boring."

It hurt Jace more than he cared to let on. Again and again she'd ask to have sex with him, but that meant taking his clothes off... and also letting her know about his leg. Besides, it wasn't like he could actually _do _what she kept asking for. Not anymore.

God, he was so useless. What _could_ he even do now?

"If you ever decide to stop being a greedy little bastard and remember I have needs too, you know my number" Aline announced before storming from he room, leaving Jace feeling totally and utterly worthless and reconsidering his 'relationship' with Aline. She had been so sweet and loving in her letters, but now? Maybe Clary was right...

**oOoOo**

When Clary returned home, she ploughed through as much homework as she could before she had to go over to the Herondale residence. She dropped her mother an email and shoved in a sandwich before leaving the house at seven on the dot.

It was freezing outside, the November air instantly biting at her cheeks and exposed neck. She shuddered and glanced up towards the sky that seemed heavy with something that looked suspiciously like snow.

Stephen Herondale was the one to open the door and let her into the warmth, telling her to go straight through to the living room where the central heating was best.

Jace was sat upon the sofa with the TV on before him when she walked in. Instantly he froze up at the sight of her and glowered at his father behind her. "Seriously?" he growled. "I take it all back- grandmother Imogen _can_ babysit instead."

Stephen ignored his son and handed Clary a small slip of paper. "This is our number in case of emergencies. We're not going to be more than a few hours at the latest. I don't like Celine out in this cold too long now because... well, we're expecting our second child." His smile was bright, but his eyes were brighter. Clary beamed. "Congratulations!"

"Why," Jace grumbled from the sofa, "do people say Congratulations to guys about this? 'Oh you're both having a child? Enjoy the screaming and swearing at the birth' sounds much better. Sex equals children. Should have wrapped it up, dad."

Stephen glowered at his son and opened his mouth to retaliate, but Clary beat him to it.

"Oh? So you know sex ed after all! I'm shocked! Not as blond as you look?"

Jace glowered, but said nothing. Stephen snorted and placed a hand atop Clary's shoulder. "We'll be back soon. Thank you for this. I know he's a handful."

"Bye dad" Jace called, ramping up the TV show before him.

When the pair left, Celine pressing a brief kiss to her son's cheek, Clary sat down next to him and grabbed the remote, turning the TV off. When he went to snatch the remote she tossed it to the other side of the room where he certainly couldn't reach.

"How are you?" Clary asked him, Halloween on her mind. Jace arched a brow. "Spectacular. Now fetch that remote and shut up for two hours. Feel free to go into the kitchen and stay in there."

Clary rolled her eyes. "_Why _are you so hostile?"

"War, dear sweet little Clarissa" Jace told her darkly. "Overdone line, but I've seen things you wouldn't believe. I've killed people without batting an eyelid about it because it was my job."

He was nervous, Clary could tell from the tension in his body and his darting eyes. There was a thick blanket over his body and as usual, he was wearing a long sleeved jumper that he had his hands tucked inside of.

"You're laughing at me, aren't you?" Jace spat, shifting away from Clary. "Or you're one of those girls who believes my leg is 'beautiful like my soul.'"

Clary laughed, breaking into a genuine smile. "Personally, I think your leg is pretty gross. But that's just me and amputated limbs kinda creep me out. No, what is beautiful is a persons strength to carry on after what has happened to them. You're not beautiful to me, Jace, because you've given up."

After a long moment, Jace said, surprisingly calm, "I haven't given up."

Clary wanted to laugh again, but didn't. It felt wrong. "Not given up? When was the last time you left the house of your own accord? And not to a hospital? Months. That sounds like someone who's given up." Her eyes flickered to his blanket covered body. "And you mentioned laughing. I'm not laughing at you, no one is. It's the 21st Century and I don't see why you're hiding from me. Not after what I saw on Halloween."

Jace instantly froze up and growled softly, "you don't mention Halloween. Ever. I had a... moment of insanity and nothing I said was true."

It was a lie and they both knew that. Clary rolled her eyes and raised a hand to her collar, pulling it down slightly to straighten it out. "You need to get out more" Clary told him seriously. "Isabelle hasn't mentioned you once in ages and I'm pretty sure she thinks you hate her."

A pause and Jace shrugged, sinking further down into the covers. "I don't hate her. I just don't know how she's going to... adjust to this-" his eyes flickered down to his leg, hate in his eyes. "It's repulsive."

Clary had no idea what to say to him, much less how to cheer him up. Jace seemed permanently down and depressed and it was sad to witness. It was like watching someone running towards the edge of a cliff and not having the power to stop them even though they had been within reach.

Once more he shrugged, voice surprisingly soft. "It's just... strange. I was a somebody in the army, then this happened and... who am I now? Nobody."

She frowned, shaking her head insistently. "You're wrong; everyone is a somebody. They may not believe it, but they will always-"

"No," Jace interrupted. "Think of me as part of a clock. A clock works perfectly where all the pieces are well oiled and in place. But then imagine that piece being forcibly ejected. What can that piece now do? He doesn't fit in anywhere but that specific clock. Even worse, he can barely adapt to the outside world because now he is broken and bent in more ways than one."

"You're not a clock piece" Clary groaned. "Yes, you were a soldier, but that doesn't mean that is all you can do. I don't even know what to say right now because it sounds so ridiculous. You are a somebody, always and forever. You have a loving family..." she swallowed hard, a shiver creeping up her spine. "My mother has been in Iraq for three years and my brother wants to join her. You're not the only one who has been hurt from warfare."

Jace's gaze was cold. "You have hurt little feelings? Well I have a fucking missing leg, burns all up one side of my body and too many cuts and scars to count. We won't count my fucked up mind. Yeah, that's put me in my place (!) Your mother probably ran off, not giving a shit about you all if she's been gone that long. I don't blame her, really."

He was an asshole, he knew that. She'd only been trying to help him and he'd said the first horrible words that had come into his mind. Guilt flooded Jace as tears shined in Clary's eyes. He probably could have deflected the slap to his face, but he let it hit because he knew he deserved it. That and her words of how much she hated him.

"I'm sorry!" Jace called as Clary grabbed her coat and made for the door. "Hey! Get back here!" he threw a pillow in her direction. It hit her leg, making her stumble into the wall and drop her bag.

Clary stopped by the door and Jace's eyes widened as she picked up one of his mother's decorative plates from the wall. It was a pattern of geometric black and gold and extremely expensive.

"No-" Jace told her, raising a finger. "Mom loves those plates, and-"

Clary threw it straight at him. Jace barely dodged the shattering China as it hit the wall behind him, showering him in fragments. A moment later he peered over the top of the covers, hoping he wouldn't sustain serious head injuries from flying plates.

The girl was sat upon the floor with her head between her legs and her arms over her head. Jace's acute hearing could hear the sobs shaking her body even from here.

Jace paused before sighing in defeat and grabbing the crutch from the floor next to him. Groaning, he pulled himself to his feet, leaning heavily on it as he made his way over to Clary, hoping and praying he didn't fall over and break his leg. Or even worse, land on Clary and crush her. Army training had left his body more muscle than anything, and he wasn't a lightweight, that was for sure.

Jace was panting heavily when he sat down next to Clary with a loud thump and groan of pain. He hesitantly placed a hand atop Clary's shoulder. The effect was instantaneous as she pushed him away, raising her head to glare at him, red face shining with tears. "You have no idea how much I miss my mother" she told him fiercely. "She would never run and leave us. It's a constant ache, how much I want her back. You'd never understand-" Clary jerked her head towards the photo of Jace and his parents on the table in the living room.

"I'm sorry" Jace repeated quietly. "I'm not quite sure how to act these days."

"How about like someone decent?!" Clary snarled into his face. "Legless or not, you're still a living, breathing person. I've done _nothing _to you. Actually, I've been trying to help you!"

Jace refused to flinch away from her rising voice, loud and painful in his ears. He nodded, eyes dropping to the floor in defeat. "I'm sorry" he said once more, so sincere that even Clary heard it. Her chest heaving from rage, she let her head drop back against the cream wall, eyes stinging from the tears. Of all times, she cursed herself. Of all times to lose control and fucking cry, it would be in front of him. Because of him.

And then she broke. "I want her back" Clary sobbed, dissolving into tears she couldn't stop, a hand over her mouth. "I have to keep strong for my father and brother, but I _can't._ Sometimes I can barely keep it together. What if she _has_ ran away and left us? I barely get emails from her now. And... I overheard dad talking to another woman on the phone just before we moved her. He's _dating someone else. _Am I blind? Are they hiding something from me?_"_

It was Jace's turn to have no idea what to do. The girl sobbed next to him and he did the only thing that he hoped was the right thing, and that was hug her to him.

Clary froze inside his embrace and he instantly let her go, wondering if he should apologise. She stared at him for a long moment before she said "you're seeing Isabelle tomorrow. No excuses. I will drag you out by your good leg if I have to."

And just like that, the crying, broken girl was gone. Jace could still see it inside her eyes, but then it was gone as if hidden behind closed shutters. Weak shutters that would break again.

Jace nodded briefly. "Okay. Where? What time?"

"It's the weekend. I'll pick you up and we'll go down to Java Jones" Clary told him firmly. "At midday. Can you walk with crutches?"

Jace quashed the discomfort away as he told her unwillingly "not very well. I have a wheelchair for now."

"Fine."

And that was the last words the pair said to the other for the rest of the evening. Clary helped Jace back onto the sofa in silence, avoiding his eyes and sitting on the single armchair the other side of the room with a pad of paper before her and a pencil in hand as she drew random pictures until Celine and Stephen returned. The moment the front door opened, her face turned into a mask of smiles, the pad and pencil stuffed back into her small bag. She accepted the pair's thank you's and left without another word.

"What happened to the plate?!" Celine squeaked as she saw the shattered remains all over the floor. Jace grimaced. "I lost my balance earlier and fell into it. Sorry."

Celine groaned and made for the kitchen where the dustpan and brush was. Stephen however cocked a brow and took a step towards the pile, eyes flickering towards the wall where there was a small mark from where the plate had hit. He nodded slightly. "What did you say to her to make her do that?"

"Something pretty bad" Jace said truthfully. "And I regret it."

"Good" Stephen told him curtly. "Don't tell your mother about what really happened." Jace nodded, avoiding his eyes- he couldn't stop thinking about Clary. About how she'd switched from raging fire-storm to broken china doll in mere seconds.

When Celine walked back into the room, Jace announced "I'm going out tomorrow with Clary. We're meeting Isabelle."

His mother dropped the dustpan and brush from shock, her eyes widening in surprise. "Really?" she said in undisguised happiness. "Well... good! Finally! Is this a... date with Clary?"

Jace's dark look was confirmation enough that it wasn't. His mother giggled quietly and Jace couldn't help but roll his eyes good-naturedly.

He spent the rest of the evening terrified for the next day when he saw Isabelle Lightwood again for the first time in too long. What if she walked out? What if she told him she never wanted to see him again?

It took him a long time to finally fall asleep.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Hola! An update! Not much to say other than thank you for the lovely reviews and don't forget to leave more! More reviews equals faster updates. For now... a snippet!_

Jonathan set his cup of now cold coffee down harder than he meant to at the sight of Isabelle and the unfamiliar boy. He knew what the monster in his chest was growling about, but didn't want to admit it.

After all, jealousy was such an ugly emotion.

_Don't forget to review :) _


	7. Warriors

We were the kings and queens of promise

We were the victims of ourselves

-Kings and Queens – 30 Seconds to Mars

**oOoOo**

He had been the one to discover the quaint little café first, not Isabelle. It was the second day of their move to the area and he had opted to escape the confines of his hideous pink bedroom by exploring.

The morning was covered in a blanket of thick fog, the air rather cold for early Autumn. Jonathan had been wearing a thick black jumper and matching hat that clashed magnificently with his pale hair as he strolled through the biting morning air. Above him, the sun was fighting its way through the gloomy clouds with no success. It looked to be a dull day.

_Cinder's_ had been a red blur for a start, but as he neared, it gave way to a vibrant red café tucked at the back of a chain of much larger restaurants. It was surprisingly empty and the moment he pushed the matte black door open, he'd been greeted and led over to a table.

The chocolate orange latte had been the stuff of dreams.

A week after his discovery, a day after meeting the exquisite Isabelle Lightwood, the girl herself found the café. Every day she would come for the place's special food and drink menu, sitting at the chair by the window with her midnight hair cascading around her face, expression almost wistful with her hand tapping a silent rhythm upon the white marble.

It made Jonathan wonder from his hidden crevice at the back if she was waiting for something.

As the days passed, Jonathan found himself frequenting the café more often. Not for the lattes, but for the girl who sat in silence with her eyes watching the slow but steady trickle of people pass by. It was impossible to erase her from his mind, even though he knew she hated him. Hated him with a passion.

But that night she had been so very drunk, the way she'd nestled into his chest while carrying her inside... it was a tape on replay inside his head, her scent of jasmine still heavy in the air around him.

Jonathan Morgenstern could not and would not stop thinking about Isabelle Lightwood.

Jonathan set his cup of now cold coffee down harder than me meant to at the sight of Isabelle and the unfamiliar boy. He knew what the monster in his chest was growling about, but refused to admit it.

After all, jealousy was such an ugly emotion.

The boy sat next to Isabelle had black hair too, but Jonathan noticed, dressed like an uncoordinated mess; his ashy jumper was two sizes too big at least, his jeans maybe one size larger than his narrow frame. His boots were shined to high perfection and his hair neat in a way Jonathan was sure he'd spent an ungodly amount of time on it. The boy's eyes, admittedly, were a truly gorgeous shade of sapphire.

What the fuck would Isabelle want with this piece of homeless trash? He wanted to wander over and make his presence known at long last, but resisted, knocking back the cold coffee in one go. He didn't enjoy it. It was bitter in his mouth, the after-taste foul.

Isabelle and the boy were laughing now, and Jonathan saw her smile- it was nervous. It made him feel even more sour at the thought maybe this was a first date between the pair.

He wanted to ruin it. Ruin it completely.

_Stop it,_ Jonathan told himself now. _She's at perfect liberty to date whoever she wants. You're just jealous._

Yeah, he was jealous. Well and truly.

But before he could stand up, the door tinkled open and a rattle of wheels against the stone flooring met his ears. A flash of orange that he knew well met his eyes and he sunk back down behind the line of decorative foliage, peering through the small gap near the left side.

Isabelle screamed, almost making Jonathan throw himself off his chair and indeed run to her rescue as if she was a damsel in distress. She'd thrown her arms around the blond-haired young man's shoulders and was hugging him tightly. Clary was standing awkwardly next to Isabelle's... date, or whatever he was.

Isabelle then slapped the young man's face, totally taking Jonathan aback. She then snarled with her eyes blazing like a fire-storm in the darkness; "How could you!? I was so, so worried about you! Jace, you bastard!"

Understanding flickered within Jonathan- this was Jace Herondale, the neighbour he'd yet to meet. The war hero.

He sunk down lower as the quartet sat around a table.

* * *

><p>Clary couldn't stop staring at Jace after Isabelle had slapped him, wondering how he'd react. He'd rubbed at it once and shrugged, saying the words "your right hook is as good as ever I see."<p>

Isabelle sat down opposite, her face much paler than it had been a moment ago. Her horror was now a blank mask as she sat next to her brother Alec, still gazing at Jace's leg as if it might attack her if she looked away.

"Jesus" Alec muttered at long last. "I don't know what to say?"

Isabelle rounded on Clary, the words a low hiss "you could have told me!"

Jace groaned and held up a hand. "Izzy, chill. Please. I'm here and alive, just not completely whole."

Alec shook his head slightly, jewel-bright eyes wide. "What happened? How did it happen?"

It was something Clary wanted to know, but hadn't asked. She hadn't dared.

Jace once more shrugged. "Long story short? Stepped on an IED. Boom boom pow."

He said it calmly, but Clary noticed the way his face lost the rest of its colour except for the red welt on his cheek from where Izzy had slapped him. His hand upon his good knee curled into a loose fist that assured Clary his story wasn't that simple. There was more, much more.

After a moment of silence, Isabelle sighed heavily. "I shouldn't have slapped you. But... you know you can talk to me, you idiot. Why didn't you? Or Alec? We are your _friends. _Best friends! We're practically family and when your mother told me that you didn't want to see me..."

Clary thought for a start that Isabelle was crying, but there wasn't a tear in sight. Her face was impassable and Clary knew that the moment she got home, the tears would flow in the privacy of her own room.

"So... are you getting a fake leg or something?" Alec asked now, voice faint as if he couldn't believe what he was saying. Jace nodded, eyes flickering down to his legs.

"Yes. I'm getting a fitting in a few weeks or so, depending on my progress. Then it's learning to walk again, I guess."

Isabelle leaned closer, eyes frightened. "You're not going back into the armed forces, are you? I told you, _told you _that this wouldn't end well. I just-"

"I remember it all" Jace interrupted gruffly. "And no, I'm not going back. I would if I could, but I can't now, can I? Unless I got a fucking desk job. And we know how that'll end-" he mimed tying a noose around his neck.

Isabelle didn't find it amusing. She rose to her feet and stormed from the café with the door slamming behind her. Alec winced at the noise before sighing, running a quick hand through his hair. "She'll come around. She's just... trying to adjust. Me too."

Jace snorted softly, eyes fixed on the closed door where Isabelle had stormed out. He nodded. "Yeah, I'm still doing that as well." Silence, then he looked up at Clary. "Let's go" Jace said softly, eyes dropping back to the floor.

"Jace-" Alec started but Jace growled "_let's go._"

Clary flashed the black-haired boy an apologetic smile before taking the back of Jace's wheelchair and pushing him towards the door.

* * *

><p>The car was parked at the top of a gently sloping hill just around the corner, but it was still hard work pushing a very muscular Jace up it. On the way down he'd insisted he'd do it himself but Clary hadn't allowed him. This time she would have been glad for some help.<p>

It was at the top that Jace pushed away and huffed at Clary to leave him alone, making to head back down the hill. She scowled and grabbed the handles, heaving him around which was a feat in itself; the left wheel ran over her foot and she swore loudly in pain.

_"I will push you down this fucking hill in a moment Hot Wheels!"_

That shut up Jace. He rounded on Clary with narrowed eyes. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me" Clary snapped, kicking in the breaks behind the wheelchair and unlocking the car and opening the door for Jace. When she opened the trunk, Clary turned to find Jace slumped down in his seat with his expression nothing short of miserable. He glanced up at Clary's gaze and sighed, "I need some... you know."

Help. He meant help. And was so very ashamed of it. Clary bent down and Jace laced an arm around her neck, rising with her. A shuffle forwards and he was able to get into the passenger side himself. Jace refused to meet her eyes once as Clary folded down his mobile wheelchair and stuffed it into the back of the car she'd borrowed from his mother for the day on his behalf.

Jace hated feeling so useless. He couldn't wait for his prosthetic just to be rid of all the fussing and check-ups.

"Where do you want to go?" Clary asked as she slid into the drivers side, turning to Jace sulking into his seat next to her. He shrugged and she rolled his eyes. "Come on – anywhere other than your home. There has to be somewhere."

"I want to go home. Nowhere else" Jace snapped, still not looking at her. "I've been slapped and goggled at like a sea-monster in the space of an hour. Home. Now."

Clary only made one small detour on the way back to Brooklyn, and that was to visit the McDonald's drive thru. When she'd asked Jace what he'd like, he'd merely glared at her.

So she'd bought him a Happy Meal, thrusting it into his chest telling him that hopefully this would do the impossible and cheer him up.

His mood hadn't improved in the slightest.

Back at the Brownstone's, the pair sat on the Herondale's doorstep and ate their McDonald's. Jace was silent while he ate his burger, but when he started on his fries, sighed in defeat.

"I've been a total asshole to you."

Clary munched on a fry for a moment before arching a brow. "Is this some half-assed attempt at an apology?"

"Hey – you threw a plate at my head last night."

"You deserved it!" Clary snapped, stealing one of Jace's fries. He scowled. "Stealing the cripple's food now?" He then reached over and stole a handful of fries and shoved them unceremoniously into his mouth. Refusing to be beaten, Clary mirrored him and promptly started choking as she stuffed far too many in. Jace thumped Clary hard on the back, watching with an amused expression as she coughed and spluttered up the fried potato.

"Well... looks like I win this" Jace smirked, smug.

"Fuck you."

Jace looked momentarily thoughtful. "You could if you like; it's been a long time since I last had sex."

With a grimace, Clary shoved the McDonald's away and cleared her throat- she wouldn't eat McDonald's again for a while, that was for sure. "Oh? Isn't your slutty girlfriend not giving you any? Or do you just shove her head down on your cock before she gets a chance? Or does she go straight for it like a fat guy in a free cake shop?"

Jace groaned, eyes closing for a moment in annoyance. "Seriously? What is it with you and Aline? I get it that you don't like her, but really?"

"Just don't come crying to me when you find out what kind of hoe she is" Clary snapped, rising to her feet with her screwed up fast-food wrappers. "Can you get in home yourself?"

"Yes" Jace replied in a bored voice, avoiding Clary's eyes – could she really be telling the truth about Aline? He wasn't sure anymore. She didn't seem the type to make up such malicious lies. "See you whenever."

It was as Clary walked through her front door across the road that she realized she and Jace Herondale were some semblance of friends.

**oOoOo**

Jace was uncharacteristically quiet that night. At dinner, his parents ceased their conversation to ask if he was okay.

He speared his potato with a fork. "I saw Izzy and Alec today. Isabelle... didn't take it well. Alec... well, even I can't tell."

"Oh" Celine winced. "This probably isn't the best time to tell you that there's a charity event for wounded soldiers coming to my old school next week? They're raising money for people like you and... well, I told Valentine Morgenstern that you would attend. Be a special guest."

Jace's fork and potato missed his mouth in his haste to stare at his mother as if she'd utterly and completely lost her mind. "You did _what?_"

Celine shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Well it's your old school and-"

"No!" Jace shouted, slamming his fork prongs-down into the oaken table. It stayed there even when he let it go, slapping the table with a palm. _"No! _What were you thinking?! I can't do this! I- I can't!_"_

"You need more human interaction" his father told him. His voice was cool, calm and collected, but his eyes were stormy. Jace didn't care.

"Human interaction?!" he raged, hands balled into fists upon the table, his body trembling slightly with fear he'd never admit to. "This is bullshit!"

Celine shoved her chair back as she stood up, palms flat upon the tabletop. Jace had never seen her so angry. It was unnerving and a little frightening.

"Jonathan," she announced, voice shaking with rage. "You are _going. _I will not have my son wither away to nothing inside my own home. Do you know how _destroyed _I was when you announced out of the blue that you were _joining the army?! _"

A shiver crept down Jace's spine; he hadn't know that. The day he'd told his parents over dinner that he was going into the armed forces, they'd accepted it without question. Neither had tried to stop him. His mother had cried a fair amount, but she'd been strong. Too strong for her.

"You didn't argue it" Jace said quietly, meeting his mother's anguished eyes. "You were fine with it."

"Of course I fucking wasn't!" Celine screeched, eyes red with tears. "My only son going to get himself blown up?! Of course I wasn't happy with that! But I let you! You were an adult, and you never would have changed your mind about leaving even if I had begged on my knees before you. You are too stubborn and look where you are now-! A little bastard that refuses to leave his room and abuses all that try to help an- Oww-!" Celine flinched violently, dropping a hand to her stomach.

Any anger at his mother from her words Jace had was gone in an instant, replaced with blinding fear for her. "Mom-" he started, but his father was already on his feet. Stephen bent down slightly and placed a hand tenderly upon his wife's cheek, asking gently "are you okay? Do you want me to call an ambulance?"

Celine shook her head, looking over to where Jace sat paralysed by fear. She shook her head once and whispered "when they rang and told me..." she didn't continue and looked away, allowing Stephen to help her upstairs.

Jace sat at the vacant table staring into his still half-full plate, forcing back the tears at all costs; he had barely thought about what his parents had thought about him going to war after their acceptance. He'd just... forgotten any worries or thoughts when they'd said nothing, thinking they were proud.

Maybe they had been proud, but there had obviously been despair too.

"Stupid bastard" Jace muttered to himself, pressing his forehead to the tabletop. "You stupid bastard to think you could do all this without consequence."

Had he shattered the family?

* * *

><p>Jace waited until his father was downstairs watching TV while washing up to sneak into the room where his mother was lying down. It wasn't sneaking, exactly; hobbling on a single crutch was a better name for it. Steps were his greatest enemy and the smallest of obstacles upon the floor instantly turned the place into an assault course of the worst kind.<p>

She was lying curled up beneath the covers when Jace sat down next to her, a light frown on his face; he'd never seen his mother so very vulnerable looking. She hid her secrets and thoughts well, he realized.

"I'm sorry for yelling" Celine muttered, awake beneath the closed eyelids.

Jace swung his good leg onto the bed with a soft hiss and rolled onto his side. "Are you okay? Is it the baby?"

She shook her head, opening her eyes a sliver. "I'm just tired. I'm not as young as I used to be. When I had you, Jace. This baby tires me out more quickly than I care to admit. Don't tell your father, he worries too much."

Jace didn't move a muscle as his mother opened her eyes properly and raised a hand, setting it to his cheek. Her thumb stroked at his jawline, a sad smile on her face. "I love you Jace. You're my little boy. I realize now maybe I should have been more strict with you like your father. Maybe I could have stopped you going... stopped you from losing your leg."

Jace groaned against his mother's hand. "Mom, we both know what a little stubborn prick I was back then, wanting to become a hero."

"It's ironic" Celine muttered. "You _are _a hero now. But at a great cost."

Silence, then- "no. I'm not a hero, mom. I'm really not. He still got injured. And much worse than me."

Celine groaned, leaning closer and pressing her forehead to her son's. "Baby, you carried two unconscious comrades through live machine gun fire, then carried them god knows how many miles towards your base."

Jace didn't want to think about it. It wasn't like they'd all escaped unharmed. One had been shot in the chest and had been bleeding profusely upon the bloodstained earth. He'd known it was hopeless, but still hadn't given up, even with his own cuts and a gunshot wound to his shoulder. He'd hoisted that first man up onto his agonized shoulders and started the journey towards base since their radios were bust.

The other young man had been his friend. He had been hit by shrapnel for sure, tearing at his legs and body. Jace remembered stumbling with the sun baking down upon him and the injured comrade heavy upon his shoulders as he'd tended to him best he could. He'd then decided he would do the impossible, and that was to carry them both back to base. He couldn't just... leave them to die in the middle of nowhere. It was worse than the death that would soon claim them.

So he'd hoisted them both onto his back and started the backbreaking journey north towards the base, hoping and praying no hostiles found them before friendlies did.

He'd almost made it, the sun at its peak in the sky when the _click _sounded beneath his left foot. Jace had frozen in horror, looking down with his breathing heavy in the scorching sun. The dead weights upon his back weren't making this any easier and his shot shoulder was dripping blood.

Jace knew he was going to drop them and stumble, setting off the IED instantly. But the choice was; drop the pair by accident here from thinking too long and all three of them get blasted to smithereens, or...

Energy reserves next to breaking point, Jace had squared his shoulders and swallowed hard, thinking of his parents. They were going to be heartbroken at news of his death. His mother especially.

_At least I never married, _Jace told himself as he readied himself. _Or had children. To leave them alone as well as my parents... _

Closing his eyes so he didn't see death erupting around him, he thought of home in New York and threw the pair upon his shoulders as hard as he could, running from the IED and stumbling over into the baked earth.

It didn't blow. Jace dragged the pair from the IED as fast as he could, hoping and praying it was a dud.

It wasn't.

The explosion a few seconds later threw Jace from his feet and into the jagged rocks around him, sharp stones tearing through his clothes and his skin burning as flames enveloped him. He wondered if this was how burning alive felt like.

When everything drained to black, the explosion rendering him temporarily deaf, he thought it a blessing; death had faster than he'd thought it to be.

Jace woke up two and a half weeks after the IED explosion back in the States. He didn't know then just what had happened to his body, but his first questions were about his comrades; were they alive?

His friend hadn't made it. The IED explosion had thrown him back a little, but the cause of death hadn't been from it. However, the other man had survived. But barely. Where Jace was missing one leg, the other man was missing both and had much more substantial burns than him.

One out of two hadn't been enough for Jace. The grief at his own loss and of his friend had been too much. When he'd been told he was going to be presented a medal for outstanding bravery, he'd told them to fuck off, that he didn't deserve it for only saving one.

He still didn't know where the other survivor was now, only that his name was James Carstairs. Jace had been contacted before and informed that the man he'd saved wanted to talk to him, but Jace constantly refused.

He couldn't stomach it. The mere idea of revisiting the past, the painful months of recovery was nothing short of nauseating.

Celine frowned worriedly at her son's pained expression. "Are you in pain? Do you have enough painkillers? Baby-?"

"I was just thinking about... you know what" Jace muttered, voice laced with pain no one could understand. "I don't like thinking about it."

"You should contact James" Celine said sympathetically. "He just wants to thank you."

It was a terrifying prospect. Jace shook his head. "Maybe one day, but not now. I can't. It makes me want to throw up."

Celine nodded and shuffled closer, tugging Jace into her chest where she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his honey-blond hair. Before he'd gone to war, it had been just sweeping his shoulders. Now? It was just below his ears.

"What do you want?" Jace asked, changing the subject. "The baby?"

A soft laugh. "A girl. I can braid her hair."

Jace snorted in disbelief. "You braided _my_ hair, mom. There's a _very embarrassing_ photo of me age _ten _with a French braid downstairs in a frame upon the wall."

Celine giggled quietly. "Your hair is too short now. I miss your long hair. Are you growing it back out?"

"Mmmhmm. Yeah. The super-short cut was cold at night, you have no idea." He wrapped his arms tight around his mother and snuggled closer, feeling as if he was seven once more and nothing was scary as long as he had his mother nearby to protect him. He'd missed that in Afghanistan; a simple hug from his mother.

"I'm tired" Celine muttered sleepily, rubbing her son's back gently, hoping she wasn't irritating the burns underneath. Jace was tired too. Freeing a hand he gently tugged the covers over himself as well and closed his eyes. For the first time in a long time, his dreams were free of explosions and the screams of his best friend as he burned right before him.

* * *

><p><em>AN: GASP. YES. AN UPDATE SO SOON! Surprise! I've been in a mood lately where I want to write. And hey ho here is an update! Yes, a Jace's past chapter! You all know how Jace got his nasty nasty injuries now. Poor tortured baby. Anyway, enjoy and drop more of those amazing reviews!_

_Also, a question: for this years short The Mortal Instruments Christmas story, what would you like to read about? Clace? Malec? Fluffy snowball fights? Chuck what you'd like to see at me! _

_Next chapter should be soon, methinks. Enjoy!_

_Tiny snippet:_

Jace blinked twice at the sight of Clary in the emerald halter-necked dress. She looked... there was only one word for it, and it was one Jace never thought he'd use around Clary Morgenstern, and that was Beautiful. She was as radiant as the dawn and he couldn't stop staring until his gaze was broken by the arrival of Aline Penhallow who looked far from happy about something.


	8. For My Help

Silent screams are hurting me  
>Just ask for my help<br>Take a whole or a part of me  
>And ask for my help<p>

-Hayden Calnin – For My Help

_oOoOo_

Clary swore as the paper sliced through her thumb. Of all things she needed today, a paper cut. Two days she'd helped with the planning of the soldiers fund-raiser, and now it was time for action she couldn't pick up a simple chair for hissing at the pain in her thumb.

"Great" Clary grumbled to herself as she set up the tables, glaring at the stuffed toy elephant that was from the tombola; it seemed to be mocking her with its glass eyes gleaming.

One of the tables was for Jace to sit at since he was the guest of honour. Would he turn up, though? Clary wasn't expecting him to. This scene was too crowded for him and his anxiety of people being around him.

Isabelle dashed past now, barely glancing Clary's way. For two days straight the girl had been distant and it frustrated Clary; Jace's secret had not been her own to tell. Didn't she realize that?

A clatter sounded behind Clary now, causing her to whip around with her eyes flying wide. But as soon as she saw the person climbing back onto his feet, sniggered.

"Did you know there's a chair there, Jonathan?"

He snorted, stuffing the chair roughly back into place. "Guess I do now. Shut up. Stop laughing."

Clary fluttered her lashes, setting down another wad of programmes onto the table. "I said nothing birthday boy."

"That's tomorrow. Wow, nineteen... if dad pushes me back in school again, I'll kill him" Jonathan groaned, taking the seat he'd fallen over. "You're very overdressed, by the way. It's way too cold for a halter-neck."

Clary shrugged, raising her free hand and tugging at the band of emerald green around her neck, keeping the dress up. "So? I wanted to look nice."

Jonathan's dark eyes gleamed. "Are you trying to impress someone? Does my itty bitty little sister have a _crush _on someone?"

Clary smacked the back of his head with the wad of programmes. Did he have to jump to that kind of conclusion straight away? "Run along now."

Smirking the entire time, Jonathan rose to his feet. "You _are, _aren't you?"

Waving the wad of programmes threateningly in front of his face, Clary's eyes narrowed. "I am not, for your information. Dad told me to look nice and here I am. Comprende?"

"Fine, fine" Jonathan dismissed, not convinced in the slightest. "Where is dad anyway? I haven't seen him since he dropped us off. It's freezing and I have nothing to do now."

"He's inside readying the raffle. If you've not got anything to do-" she slapped the programmes into his chest. "Walk around and give these out."

Jonathan's grin was wide and teasing as he shoved them back. "Hell no. I'm following Izzy around. From afar, of course. Wouldn't want her to realize... uh, think I'm stalking her."

Clary rolled her eyes, handing the programmes back to him. "If you like her, just tell her. Jeez."

A shrug. "Who says I do?" Jonathan replied lightly. Clary snickered. "The constant puppy-dog eyes in her direction, following her around and shrine dedicated to her in your room attest to that."

"There's no shrine, but thanks for the idea" Jonathan joked, reluctantly stuffing the programmes into his hoodie's front pocket.

Clary's eyes flickered to the table where you could sign up for the army as a clatter sounded from it. She cleared her throat, not meeting her brother's eyes. "So... will you be signing up there today?"

Jonathan frowned, then turned to see the sign-up table. He sighed heavily and looked back to his sister. "Clary-"

"Why didn't you go last year?" Clary interrupted, folding her arms across her chest. "You were old enough, yet you never put your name down. If you're so hell-bent on going, why didn't you?"

Jonathan looked suddenly very uncomfortable. _Good, _Clary thought as she glared at him. Eventually, the young man sighed. "I wanted... well, I wanted you to get used to the idea before I left."

Clary's expression hardened instantly. "Bullshit" she spat before shoving past him and storming off.

He watched her go, regret heavy in his heart; it wasn't like he could just tell her that he'd never intended in going in the first place. The entire 'obsession' was just to utterly and completely put her off wanting to go herself in the future. She'd thought of going before, what if she did again? The thought terrified Jonathan.

_I don't care if she hates me when she finds out the truth, _Jonathan thought to himself as he handed out the first of the programmes. _As long as my baby sister isn't in the arms of war, I do not give a shit what happens to me._

_**oOoOo**_

Jace wasn't nervous, he was petrified. Beneath the hard, blank exterior, he was in serious danger of going mad and diving out of the moving car.

"Relax" his mother told him yet again, but he couldn't. It was impossible. Jace's heart was in his mouth and his hands were shaking inside his coat pockets.

The moment they pulled up and Celine made to leave the car, he asked "can't we just go home? Please?" he was never one to say please unless he had to.

Celine sighed and turned in her seat towards her son. "Jace," she told him soothingly, "you'll be fine. You can't hide in the house forever."

He could try.

The parking lot was busy as his father set up the wheelchair, Jace taking deep breaths within the car, telling himself to man up. His friends from the army would eat him alive if they saw him now, Jace knew that. It was that thought alone that made him heave himself into the chair and allow his father to push him, wishing as hard as he could that no one would notice him. Notice... what was wrong with him.

Jace's wish wasn't granted. The moment the wheels hit the smooth wooden floor inside the gym, people turned to stare. Stare in shock, surprise or horror.

_It could have been worse, _Jace told himself as his father parked him next to the cake stall where he sat in utter silence, avoiding everyone's prying eyes. When his parents went outside to hunt down Valentine Morgenstern, he was left alone. Alone and secretly terrified.

A flash of green caught Jace's eyes now. Jace blinked twice at the sight of Clary in the emerald halter-neck dress, flitting from stall to stall with cups of tea. She looked... there was only one word for it, and it was one Jace never thought he'd use around Clary Morgenstern; Beautiful. She was as radiant as the dawn and he couldn't stop staring until his gaze was broken by Aline Penhallow, who looked far from happy about something.

"Finally" Aline scowled, arms crossed tightly. "And what is all this about?" she gestured to his wheelchair and scoffed. "You're taking this wounded soldiers day thing a little too far babe."

Jace cocked a brow and glanced down towards his severed leg in disbelief. Was she really that dumb? He cleared his throat, tearing his wandering gaze away from Clary.

"Aline, this isn't some costume."

The girl giggled and leaned down, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I think I would have noticed if you were missing a leg, don't you think?"

Jace took a deep breath, nerves catching in his chest. His hands were still shaking. "Aline, I really did lose a... leg in Afghanistan."

Slowly but surely, Aline's wide and teasing grin faded. She stared at his face, then leg. "What?" Aline scoffed, her expression suddenly revolted. "Are you serious? _Seriously? _That is so fucking gross! Why didn't you tell me-! Ew!" she straightened up and shook her head, face conflicted. She then grimaced. "Oh come on Jace, this isn't funny anymore. It's really gross. No one wants that."

Jace's insides were cold at Aline's reaction. How could she? After the letters they'd wrote to each other? The times they'd spent together-?

Then without warning, Aline grabbed the side of his wheelchair and heaved. Not expecting it, Jace didn't have time to react.

The entire gym hall fell silent as he crashed onto the floor. All Jace heard after the colossal crash was an almighty slapping sound and a scream of "you crazy fucking _bitch-!_" He rolled over just in time to see Clary's palm connecting with Aline's face once more before a pale-haired young man pulled her away, hissing "Clary-! Stop! You'll get in trouble!"

Jace watched in amazement as Clary shook him off and pointed a finger at Aline who was stood on the spot she'd been slapped on, apparently frozen from shock.

"If I see you again," Clary threatened her, eyes narrowed and voice dripping with hatred, "I will rip out those fake boobs and shove them down your fucking _throat._"

With all eyes on her and Clary, Aline fled from the hall without another word or sound. Jace didn't give a shit or even watch her, for he was staring at the little fireball that was Clary. It was like staring at the sun, the way she shone in his eyes at that moment. He didn't know whether he wanted to kiss her or fuck her on the spot. Both sounded pretty good.

Clary's gaze met his own for a long moment until she broke it and turned away, hurrying from the hall as fast as she could.

A low whistle of "damn, remind me not to get on her bad side" broke Jace out of his stupor. He blinked and gazed upwards at the young man who had held Clary back. Jace shrunk away and cursed himself for showing such weakness, even though inside he felt like he was dying. No, dead. He felt hollow.

Jonathan ignored Jace's flinch and crouched down, hoisting him upwards and back into the chair with a thump. His dark eyes flickered to the door for a moment before returning to Jace, saying "so you're the infamous Jace I've been hearing about."

"Yeah" Jace muttered, eyes dropping to the floor. It wasn't hard to guess who he was; Clary's elder brother. "Whatever."

Jonathan sighed and clapped him on the shoulder. "You can do a lot better than that piece of trash."

_Like your sister? _Crossed Jace's mind before he could even stop it, but he shoved it away almost instantly.

Hurried heels clacking against the floor alerted Jace to his mother's return. Her snarl of "where is that slut?!" echoed around the hall. Always the overprotective mother, Jace thought as she threw her arms around his shoulders and hugged him tight. He patted her back twice, saying nothing as she announced they were going home.

Jace didn't argue, for as soon as he got home, he planned on never leaving his room again.

_**oOoOo**_

The event was quiet after Jace and Clary's departures, but Jonathan still heard the gossip about them and what had happened. It had become twisted and warped already with one girl claiming that Clary had broken Aline's nose and pulled out chunks of her hair while biting her arm.

They all seemed to think there was some love triangle between Aline, Jace and Clary. That made Jonathan laugh and snigger every time he heard it. It was so stupid and ridiculous. Clary and Jace? Romantic? Pigs would fly before he saw that.

Now his sister was out of the way, Jonathan noticed something truly unsettling in a room just off the hall; Isabelle's date. Jonathan knew him from his maths class, the 'sexy bad boy' creep that sat at the back of the class doing utterly nothing. And that was if he'd actually turned up. He had a reputation more than a mile long and an illegitimate child at age seventeen. Not only was the creep a creep, he was also an abusive creep.

And Jonathan really didn't like the fact he kept plying Isabelle with alcohol at every given moment. He also didn't like how Isabelle looked out of her face already, her grin wide and downright stupid.

"Yeah?" the creep asked as Jonathan walked over, a muscle twitching in his cheek and fist clenched inside his pocket.

"She's had enough" Jonathan told him flatly, eyes narrowed and dangerous. "Beat it. Now."

After sizing up Jonathan, the young man decided he was wiser to leave quietly.

Isabelle scowled as he left, hissing at Jonathan "what the fuck-!" she climbed to her feet and shoved him aside, calling "Meliorn! Get back here-!" when he didn't turn, Isabelle rounded on Jonathan. She shoved hard at his chest, forcing him to take a few steps back. "Why the hell did you do that?!"

"Because I know his reputation" Jonathan snapped, grabbing the Coke bottle that was also hiding vodka inside. "He's going to get you drunk, well, even more drunk, then fuck you. Probably while you're out of it and unaware. Want that? You're not stupid, Izzy."

"I know his rep!" Izzy snapped, going to snatch the bottle back from Jonathan but missing. "I can take care of myself. He wouldn't hurt me."

"Sure (!)" Jonathan scoffed, tossing the bottle into the bin a meter away where it clattered against the metal. "You're drunk, Izzy, and here I am rescuing you again, the drunken damsel in distress."

Isabelle hissed like a furious cat. "I _can_ take care of myself! _I can! I'll prove it-_"

Jonathan never had time to reply as Isabelle aimed a hard punch at his shoulder but completely missed, hitting his cheek instead. The chair behind him crashed to the floor as he landed on it, temporarily blacking out. He came around a few seconds later with his head throbbing and feeling completely dazed.

Isabelle's mouth was open in shock as Jonathan stumbled to his feet, a hand pressed over his cheek, praying he didn't lose his balance.

"I didn't mean-" Isabelle spluttered, suddenly sober. "I'm sorry, I was aiming for your shoulder and-"

Jonathan raised a hand, effectively silencing her. He winced at the sharp pain in his cheek and head as he told her "fuck you. Get drunk, get taken advantage of, whatever. I don't care anymore. There won't be no third time lucky from me."

Isabelle watched helplessly as Jonathan stormed from the room, his strides uneven and head still spinning.

**oOoOo**

Clary didn't see Jace for almost two weeks after the 'incident'. Jonathan's nineteenth birthday was quiet with just he, Clary and their father at home celebrating. There had been no card from their mother, Clary noticed. Neither she nor Valentine knew just how Jonathan had sustained the mild concussion and spectacular bruise to his cheek, but Clary had her suspicions after seeing Isabelle's morose expression the morning after the failed event. Especially when she had spied Izzy looking up at Jonathan as he'd entered the cafeteria, but had turned away almost instantly as she was faced with a glare full of pure fury.

Maybe they had kissed, Clary wondered. Maybe Jonathan had kissed Isabelle and she had punched him for it. It was number one on her list of ideas anyway.

The nights grew colder and days even shorter. When Christmas was just two weeks away, the first snow descended upon New York, covering it in a blanket of white and shutting Clary's High School and ending the semester early due to the pipes freezing up. Clary woke up one morning to find her father despairing over the car that had frozen over. She stood there and watched in amusement with a bowl of cereal in her hands as he attempted to scrape of the ice but ended up slipping on the path, ending up face-down in the garden. In the snow, that was.

Clary sniggered as her father trudged back inside, dripping icy-cold slush everywhere. "Well... it matches your hair?" she offered as he peeled off his coat and kicked off his shoes in nothing short of disgust.

"I'm going to be late for Maryse. Please go and get the space heater" Valentine groaned as he held his coat away from him at arms length where it dripped steadily onto the floor. Clary scowled and grabbed the coat, dumping it onto the draining board.

"Mop" she ordered him. "Or someone's going to skid over, and we both know that will probably be Jonathan."

A knock on the front door saved Clary from watching her father strip his soaked shirt off. She next to threw the empty bowl down in her hurry to vacate the room.

Celine Herondale smiled when the door was opened, bundled up in numerous scarves and hats Stephen had forced her to wear because of the cold and how it could hurt the baby. "Hello Clary. I like the Christmas tree you guys have in the window. It's very... imaginative."

"Thank you" Clary grinned, wishing she'd brushed her hair. "Jonathan did it. Uh, he doesn't have much ability in decorating, you should see the paint-job he attempted in his room last week... did you want something? Do you want my dad? He's kinda half naked in the kitchen right now."

"No" Celine told her, sounding nervous Clary noticed. "I uh, wanted to see you."

That took Clary aback. "Well, I'm here" she laughed awkwardly. Celine frowned a fraction. "You see... Jace won't leave the house. He's getting a prosthetic fitting just before Christmas and he won't... leave the house to go to check ups. The doctors have to keep coming here, and with this, they can't."

Clary frowned this time. "Where do I come into this?"

Celine shifted slightly, as if she was embarrassed. "Do you think he might... listen to you? I heard about what happened at the event. I had no idea there was something between you before-"

There was a choking sound as Clary spluttered out "Something between us? No! Hell no, no offence. There's nothing between me and Jace, just... well, Aline had what happened coming and Jace was a dumb idiot who thought the sun shone out of her tits like torches because she sucked him off regularly." Clary blushed, realizing what she'd just said. Celine's cheeks were tinged bright red.

"There's... nothing?" the woman asked lightly. Clary shook her head, eyes wide. "I'm pretty sure he hates me."

Celine blinked in surprise. "No," she laughed softly. "Jace isn't like that. He is a... hedgehog. Something happens and he curls up and hides away. And if that happens, he won't uncurl for a long time. He's more prickly than usual too. But I guess after the war..." she sighed and shook her head, shivering in the cold. "Could you come around tomorrow, maybe? Talk to him? He could be almost walking before Christmas if he puts his mind to it, and I know he wants that."

It wasn't that Clary didn't want to see Jace, she did. But... she hadn't just slapped Aline because of how much a bitch she was. Something else had flared up when Aline had hurt him, and Clary didn't know what to make of it. It was also the reason she had been avoiding Jace for two weeks.

"I'll talk to him" Clary told the woman wearily. "But don't expect him to listen to me. Jace is stubborn and frustrating."

Celine beamed, letting out a sigh of relief that turned into a cloud of white breath. "Thank you, Clary. Seriously. He needs friends, now more than ever."

Clary knew for certain that Izzy and her brother, Alec, had been trying to see Jace after the fund-raiser, but he'd turned them away. She'd heard him yelling from beneath her covers in bed one morning.

When Clary shut the door, a sleepy voice behind her said "you like him."

She turned, putting on her best bitch-face. "Fuck off Jonat- what the fuck are you wearing?! It's almost freezing outside! _Are they penguins?_"

Jonathan shrugged, plucking at the line of his boxers. "Dad was tossing them out. An old Christmas present he never opened. I like them."

Clary wondered how the hell they could be related sometimes. Here she was bundled up in too many layers to count and Jonathan was wandering around in boxers. Just boxers. _Penguin boxers._

"Go wear them in front of Isabelle" she grimaced, refusing to look anywhere but at her brother's face. "She'd appreciate the sight."

Jonathan scoffed loudly, tone suddenly cold. "She's yesterday's news. Screw her." He grabbed the lone can of Coke from the table next to Clary and turned away, leaving without another word. It made Clary roll her eyes in exasperation, the sight of her brother's penguin patterned backside.

Afterwards, Clary made her way upstairs and turned on her laptop, heading straight to her email inbox. Yet again, it was empty. She sighed sadly and closed the lip, patting it twice.

"Why won't you reply, mom?" Clary muttered sadly to herself.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Woop! An update! I'm so sorry it got delayed but... well, I got Pokemon Omega Ruby and Alpha Sapphire games and I've been so distracted it's unreal. *yearns to return to 2DS even now* any other Pokemon fans out there? But hey, an update! We're getting nearer to Christmas in the story as well as real life. If you're waiting for Clace to start... well, you're going to be very happy very soon methinks. I have a teeny tiny teaser for you guys. I wonder which couple this is... ;)_

He wanted to kiss her. Had to. So he did.

_Kisses! Ooh la la! _

_Thank you for all the lovely reviews! Drop some more? _


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